


It Takes Two of Them, Apparently

by Kayin



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Allusions to prostitution, Character Death, Disturbing Themes, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mild Blood, Mild Language, POV First Person, Past Character Death, Sickness, Trauma, Violence, occasional 3rd person, science for the sake of science, tame smut tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 116,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayin/pseuds/Kayin
Summary: I jerk awake to the sound of someone banging on the shop door. What time is it? Is it morning? My head swims, I flail about trying to gain purchase while the rooms spins. Somehow I manage to get to my feet and stumble down the old stairs. The banging continues as I approach the door, each bang sending a pang of pain through my skull.“Okay! Okay! I’m coming, damn, calm down.” I unlock the door and swing it wide open, staggering a bit. The door assailant pushes past me, and I close the door behind them. “What in the--”They impatiently unwrap the shawl from around their head, and I’m transfixed by ruby eyes as they give me an appraising look. “Forgive me for the hour… but I will not suffer another sleepless night.”An Arcana retelling.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Vagrant Magician

"Asra! Damn it," I curse and glare down at the packed travel bag sitting on the bed, scarf and feathered hat sitting next to it. "You eel licking donkey's ass." I mumble. What was the point in owning a magic shop if the only one with magic ability is gone half the time? People don't come to the shop just for ingredients and trinkets, they come for readings and have items magicked. I hate turning good money away because the house magician is a flake.

I pout to myself and clomp noisily down the steps to the shop proper. Begrudgingly, I begin laying out items like trinkets and potions that need some hocus pocus done on them, trying my best to lay out a variety. If I had known he was going to skip town so damn soon I would have had more for him to enchant. I need more time than just a week to stock up, and who knows how long he'll be gone this time. I groan and dramatically throw myself bodily onto the counter, draping my limbs so they swing on either side. 

"You're killing me, Asra!" I lament. 

A quick glance out the window tells me evening is fast approaching, and I mentally calculate the moon phase for tonight. I roll my eyes. New moon. He _always_ likes to leave during a new moon. I get back to work setting out the items.

The clock on the wall next to the shop's door chimes 5 times and I make a mad dash to lock the door and flip the sign from "open" to "closed." Quickly, I scrawl out the magic circles Asra will need on some paper, taking just enough care to be sure they have all the proper sigils and symbols. While I might not technically _do_ magic, doesn't mean I don't understand the _theory_ of magic. You can't live with a magician and sell magic items and not pick up some of it. It's hard not to be enthralled by Asra's enthusiasm when he comes home with a new magic tome or scroll. I can remember many a time sitting at the kitchen table for hours watching him practice a new spell, never missing the chance to snicker when he failed, or be in awe when he was triumphant. 

It's not like I can't do _some_ magic. Even little kids can do easy stuff with a magic circle. I can operate the locking runes outside the shop door, for instance. It's just that I have no aptitude for it. And honestly it suits me just fine, I don't mind helping Asra get his spells set up but I'd rather spend my time reading medical papers and invention patents and the like that come from Prakra. 

I currently have an experiment brewing in the back room, inspired by the most recent medical journal about mold. Apparently there is a certain type of mold from common household fruits that has a medicinal benefit. If I can replicate this process and perfect it, maybe we can sell more than just dried newt and toad tongues. We could provide _medicine._ Magic is fine and dandy for your average cut, broken bone, even burns, but sickness is a different story. After the devastation of the Red Plague, it's time for more than just tonics and leeches. At least it's worth a try.

I stack up the circles next to the trinkets on the counter. The sun is starting to shine through the stained glass window in the reading room, splaying a multitude of colors across the shop. I smell the scent of pumpkin bread wafting through the open window just before I hear the door unlock and open. I prepare my glare, with hands on hips when the puff of white curly hair peeks around the door. 

Guarded lavender eyes scan over me and the counter in front of me. A sheepish smile spreading across caramel skin, exposing white teeth framed with lush lips and dimples on each cheek. Asra slides his lithe form through the door, holding out the pumpkin bread, almost as a shield. 

"I see you found my bag." Asra says with mirth, looking over the counter at the myriad of magic supplies. I intensify my glare.

"I see you intend on placating my ire with a trip to the bakers." I retort.

His face alights and he gives a hearty laugh. "I dare not show my face without a peace offering."

I look down at my favorite bread, but I look at him unimpressed. 

"Ah ah," he says with a twinkle in his eye. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a small bag of what looks like leaves. "I _also_ visited the tea shop." 

I give him a haughty look and walk around the counter to him. I look between the two items, and sigh. " _Fine._ Peace offering accepted." I pluck the items from his hands. "But you're on your own for dinner. I'm not canceling my plans just because you've decided to skip town again."

He reaches out, grabs my face and gives each cheek a quick kiss. "I don't intend on leaving until well past dark anyway. Enjoy your evening with Saffron."

I flush slightly and mumble, "You better not leave before I come back. _Or_ before we're restocked." I pointedly look at the counter.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replies easily, making his way to the stairs. "Where are you going tonight?"

I follow him to the stairs intent on putting the bread and tea in the kitchen. "I think they were wanting to go to the Rowdy Raven tonight."

"The Rowdy Raven?" He gives me a questionable look over his shoulder as we climb the stairs. "You sure that's a good idea?"

I roll my eyes. "What, just because Saffron brought me home tipsy _one time--"_

He quirks an eyebrow, "I don't think coming home slung over Saffron's shoulder, one shoe missing and a black eye can qualify as _tipsy."_

"Pfft," I wave his concern away and tuck my treasured peace offering into the cupboard. "I've learned to handle my liquor since then."

"Let's hope so," he walks into our bedroom. I stick my tongue out at him as he disappears into the room. "I saw that." 

"Of course you did," I mumble, "you have like a third eye on the back of your head." I follow him into the room, making my way to my dresser to change. Our room is small, but cozy, our things strewn about messily on dressers and window sills. 

He lays on the bed, propped up by some pillows and closes his eyes with a sigh. "I think I'll get a little rest before leaving." 

"Just don't drool on my pillow." I warn. 

He opens an eye to look at me, "No promises."

I toss my dirty shirt at his face and he laughs as he bats it away. I finish dressing and head back downstairs.

"Have fun!" He yells after me, immediately followed by a yawn. 

"Without a doubt!" I yell back, leaving the shop and locking up.

Vesuvia is bustling with the evening rush of daily life. The canals that the city is renowned for are packed with boats large and small, from the cargo rafts full of items for export, to the small gondolas used for personal transport. The setting sun shines brightly through the tall buildings, reflecting off the water with beautiful pinks and oranges. It makes me squint as I make my way west towards South End, keeping an eye out for an available gondola. I doubt I'll get one at this time of day, but sometimes one gets lucky.

The streets on either side of the canals are lined with people going about their business, and I weave around them lazily. I hope Saffron isn't planning on just drinking our dinner. I won't make it all night without something substantial in my stomach. And when Saffron drinks, Saffron _drinks_. They know how to hold their liquor, with lots of practice from their sailing days. Every night drinking with them always ends in disaster for me. If only Asra knew how regular being slung over Saffron's shoulder and deposited in the shop really was, maybe he'd stick around for longer than a few days. I wince at the thought. Nah, maybe it's better Asra isn't around for most of those drunken nights.

The sun is sinking behind the large lemonstone aqueduct as I round the corner into a dark alleyway. The street lamps haven't been lit yet, but I can make out the wooden sign about halfway down the street. I head down towards the tavern door when something large and black swoops down around my head and makes me shriek. I duck and curse and throw myself against the building wall staring wildly up at the thing now perching on The Rowdy Raven's sign. 

"I'll be damned," I mumble to myself. Shock setting in over the surprise. "Is that a raven?" I've never seen a raven in person before. It's huge! I approach cautiously, and it looks down at me with black beady eyes. It's beautiful, all black and shiny--

It squawks loudly with wings out and I jump, jolted from my thoughts. I glare at it, "Alright, alright, asshole, I'm going." I saunter into the Rowdy Raven and I could swear I hear the raven laughing at me as the door closes.

"Barth!" I call taking in the low orange glow of the taverns ambiance, the low murmur of too many voices, too many conversations to be able to understand any one thing. The smell of booze thick in the air already, but there's a hint of something else, beef maybe perhaps in a stew, that makes my mouth water. 

Barth, in all his large hairy glory, looks over at me from talking to a patron, who I now recognize as none other than my partner in crime, Saffron, and cracks a smile.

"Barth!" I cry out again walking towards the two, "You're not gonna believe it, there's a bloody _raven_ outside on your sign! Nearly took my damn head off!"

Saffron bursts out into a deep throaty laughter and I shoot them a look. Their light blue shoulder length curls bouncing in their mirth, glowing slightly green from the orange glow of the candelabra above us. 

"I see you've met Malak." Barth's booming voice says, reaching under the counter to grab me a glass. I sit next to Saffron shoving them with my shoulder as I get comfortable, they elbow me back. 

"Malak?" I ask, nodding to Barth's unspoken question as he hovers the glass under a keg of mead. 

"Mhm, seems he's been hanging around town for the last week or so." Saffron chimes in. "He's a pretty good lookout from what I hear."

"He's been doing a great job, saved us all from a raid just two days ago!" Old Linus says from the other end of the bar.

"What the hell are you getting into that you need to avoid the guards?" I look at him skeptically.

He gives me a single tooth grin. I roll my eyes.

"Anyway," Barth hands me my glass, "he won't hurt you, all bark, no bite so to speak."

"Yeah right," Saffron scoffs, "I'll wring his scrawny neck if he tries to shit on me again."

My laughter is wild, loud and deep. The type of belly laugh that leaves your abs aching, and tears streaming from your eyes. Saffron glowers at me, prolonging my laughter. I raise my glass and manage to choke out "To Malak!"

"To Malak!" Other patrons cry from across the tavern, joining me in my toast. 

"Are you done?" Saffron grumbles at me, and I dramatically wipe a tear from my eye. They click their tongue at me, and make their way over to a booth to sit.

I grin as I turn back to Barth, "What is that divine smell?" 

"Beef bourguignon."

"Beef whatchamawhosits?" 

Barth laughs, "It's fancy talk for beef stew. Want some?"

"Absolutely." My stomach gives a large growl of affirmative. I smile sheepishly.

"I'll send you some out when it's done."

I slap the counter twice and head over to Saffron, who's taking a long pull from their stein. 

"Whoa, Saffron, slow down--the night is young!" I plop myself in the booth across from them. They eye me over the lip of their glass and take another swallow out of defiance.

"No Asra? Does he have no interest in the things you do outside the shop?" Saffron starts in on me.

Ugh, not this again. "Hey, I'm allowed to do my own things you know."

They grumble as they scratch at the stubble growing on their cheek. "You live together, run a shop together, sleep in the same _bed_ together but he has no interest in doing the things you want? It's always him dropping in, doing some hocus pocus, then leaving you to run everything." 

" _Saffron,_ " I whine. "We've been over this. My relationship with Asra is _complicated."_

"Complicated." They look at me deadpan. 

"Yes. Exactly." I take a drink.

"There's nothing complicated about being taken for a ride and left to dry. To put up with that kind of behavior, his dicking had better be top notch."

I nearly spit my mead all over their immaculate makeup. " _What?_ " It comes out more of a squeak than I intend. I shake my head furiously, blushing from top to bottom.

"Tch, don't play dumb, you heard me." They point a large meaty finger at me, purple nail polish glinting in the candlelight, filed tip slightly menacing. "Don't let that man walk all over you, honey. He makes you cry, I'll kick his scrawny caramel ass."

I want to die. This is so embarrassing. I drop my head to the table and groan. I'm just going to have to spell it out for them. Dodging the subject like usual is just making them think the worst. "Asra and I--it's not what you think."

"Sure honey, and the sky isn't blue."

" _Saffron,_ " I whine again, lifting my head. "I'm serious. We've--we've never…" I feel like my face is on fire. 

"Huh-uh. No. _No."_ They say waving a hand at me. "Don't you even say you've never had a little slap and tickle with that man." They slam their hands on the table making me jump. "Honey what is _wrong_ with you? What is wrong with _him_?" 

I stare at them, mouth agape. What do I say? How can I explain it? Saffron knows about my amnesia, how I don't remember anything before 3 years ago, but how do I explain how bad it really was? How I was basically a invalid, a newborn baby, unable to even feed myself or walk? How I had to relearn _everything_ , and how Asra had to be patient and teach me? 

...how could a man be attracted to a person they had to basically raise? I know he loves me, but it's more of a brotherly caring love than a romantic love.

Large warm hands rest on my cheeks and I'm brought back to the present. Saffron smiles warmly at me, rubbing their thumbs along my cheek bones. "I'm sorry Marion. I know it's complicated. I'm just worried about you."

I smile, but it doesn't quite feel right. "I know you do. Thank you. But, really, everything is fine. Let's just have fun tonight, okay?" 

"Okay." They smile back. We toast each other and take long drawls from our steins. 

I'm giggling. I know I'm giggling too much but I can't stop the noise from escaping my lips. I see the ground above me--below me? Swaying back and forth, cobblestones sliding past my blurred vision. My cheek somewhat rests on a firm pillowy type thing, bouncing slightly with each rocking movement. 

"Sssaaaaaffrooooooon~" I can hear myself half sing their name. "Saffron got that bouncy booty~" I bounce my cheek off the pillow-booty and I hear their melodic laughter. I lift my hanging arms and slap my hands on their rump, drumming along to an imaginary tune. I giggle some more. "Saffron, Saffron! Can you believe I won? I won! I don't think I've ever won anything before."

"Who knew you'd be a savant at darts?" Saffron encourages me.

"Seriously!" I exclaim. "Whose bright idea was it to give me sharp objects to throw while plastered?!" I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded sheet of paper that spelled out my victory. It was some kind of wanted poster, with a crude drawing of a menacing looking man with a big pointed nose and wavy hair. Several holes were dotted along the face of the poster and I bring it to my eye to peek through a hole.

Saffron snorts. "Yeah we're lucky no one lost an eye."

"Speak for yourself!" I exclaim waving the poster around. "Mister Wanted Man had both eyes taken out!" We both laugh hysterically.

The forward momentum stops suddenly, and I look up to be face to face with the shop’s door. “Get those magic fingers working Marion,” Saffron levers my legs down and my upper torso is lifted into the air so I can see the door better. 

“Aye-aye!” I slap my hair away from my eyes and put the poster between my teeth so I have both hands free to work the locking magicks. I open the door and my head is slammed into the door frame as Saffron turns to enter. “Oof!” Saffron loses balance and we tumble into the shop with a loud bang and boisterous laughter. 

“What the hell?” I hear Asra say, but I’m laughing too hard to care, I sprawl my limbs out on the wood floor and try to keep everything from spinning while the laughter dies away. “Well, I see you two had fun.” A candle is lit and the room becomes slightly more visible. Something cold and soft slithers up to my face and red eyes look down at me from a heart shaped head. 

“Drunk.” Faust says as she curls up near my face. I nod and giggle.

“Asra,” Saffron sits up, my stomach churns watching them complete the action. “You should have seen it! We had so much fun, we danced on tables, played darts--”

“I won!” I wave the poster around in the air above me.

“--we sang songs and ate great food--”

“The beef boujeenomnom was DELICIOUS!”

“The what?”

“Honey, it’s bourguignon.”

“...bergenmeown?”

A purple manicured hand grabs my jaw and moves my mouth for me. “BOR-GEN-NION.” They say slowly. I begin to laugh again.

“ _STEW, fancy STEW!_ ” I choke out. Whatever, it was delicious. 

“Hey, Asra, what’s with the bag?” Saffron says, mirth gone from their voice. The laughter dies in my throat.

“Oh, I’m heading out tonight. I was just waiting for ‘I can handle my liquor’ over here to get home before I left.”

“You’re _leaving_? But you just got back!” Uh-oh I know where this is going. I reach blindly out to grab anything of Saffron’s before they can get up. 

“I know, but there are some things I need to take care of--”

“You have a _shop_ and a--”

“ _Saffron!_ ” I groan loudly, reaching up to cover their mouth.

“Oh shut up honey, if you won’t say it then I will--”

“Saffron,” Asra sighs, “I--you--we--it’s, it’s complicated.”

Saffron tosses my hand to the side and stands up. I crane my neck to look at the two towering over me upside down. The room spins and tears swell into my vision. 

“Complicated my _ass_ Asra, I won’t let you take advantage of her like you are--”

“Taking advantage? I’m not doing anything of the sort, I--”

“You are too! You leave whenever you feel like, staying for only a short time, leaving all the responsibility to--”

“STOP!” I cry, they both look down at me with wild wide eyes, one lavender and one deep chocolate brown. “Stop it!” Tears are streaming down my temples now, tickling my ears. “Please, I love you both, so don’t fight…” Faust gives my face a small nudge, tongue darting out to lick my tears.

“Oh honey,” Saffron says, bending down to help me upright. Asra bends down too, and together they have me standing, Faust slithering onto Asras shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“But--” I sniffle.

“No buts.” Asra says, and they lug me up the stairs and set me on the bed. 

“Saffron,” I mumble, “thanks for taking me out, and getting me home. I--I need to talk to Asra before he leaves.” I look up at them, pleading silently.

“Of course honey, I’ll come check up on you tomorrow.” They give my forehead a kiss and turn to leave.

“Thank you,” I whisper. The area next to me on the bed dips down and I look over at Asra, whose face is aflame with embarrassment. 

He waits until he hears the door of the shop close before he turns to me. “I’m sorry, I just--”

“ _Asra_ ,” I lean my head on his chest, “Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

He embraces me, and I can feel his chest constrict with emotion. What the hell is happening? I’m too drunk for all of this. Damn Saffron and their drinking and their over protective nature. Damn it all.

“Yes, there is so much to be sorry for.” He murmurs into my hair. What? I start to pull away but he keeps me where I am. “I can’t explain it to you, at least, not yet. But I can’t stay--it’s too hard to stay for long. It hurts too much.”

I panic, “I’m not hurting you am I?” I can feel my chest tighten and my head swim.

He gives a choked half sob half laugh. “No, no. You’re not hurting me. You’re doing nothing wrong.” He leans back and grabs my face in his hands, I meet his lavender eyes with my own. “I’ll explain when you’re stronger. When you’re… not drunk.” I give a choked laugh myself. “But for now, I need to leave. I promise though, I’ll explain everything. I just need...time.” I nod, and he wipes away a stray tear from my face. 

“In the meantime,” he grabs something from his bag at his side and I see it’s his tarot deck. “I’d like for you to keep these for me.” My back goes rigid with alarm. “Ha, I don’t expect you to use them. Think of them more as insurance, to collect on my promise.” He smiles at me with warmth. I nod again and take the cards reverently. “Actually,” he takes the deck from me and sets it on the side table. “Let’s just keep them here until you’re sober.” He winks at me, I smile. He looks out the window across the room and sighs.

“I guess it’s time to go?” I ask. He nods. “I’ll miss you.” I mumble.

“I’ll miss you too, Marion,” he leans in and gives me a chaste kiss on the mouth. “Get some rest.” He gets up to leave.

“Rest.” Faust says in her raspy voice. “Rest good.”

“Okay,” I lean back onto our pillows, breathing in his scent from his nap earlier. My body sinks into the bed with a sigh.

I jerk awake to the sound of someone banging on the shop door. What time is it? Is it morning? My head swims, I flail about trying to gain purchase while the rooms spins. Somehow I manage to get to my feet and stumble down the old stairs. The banging continues as I approach the door, each bang sending a pang of pain through my skull. 

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming, damn, calm down.” I unlock the door and swing it wide open, staggering a bit. The door assailant pushes past me, and I close the door behind them. “What in the--”

They impatiently unwrap the shawl from around their head, and I’m transfixed by ruby eyes as they give me an appraising look. “Forgive me for the hour… but I will not suffer another sleepless night.”

Bloody. Hell. That’s Countess Nadia Satrinava. She’s in my shop, in the middle of the night, and I’m _drunk._ I am going to kick Saffron’s ass. I do my best to sober up, but I still feel unsteady on my feet. 

“It’s… it’s not a problem Countess.” I try to say in my most ‘I’m not drunk’ voice as I can muster. “Please, what can I do for you?”

Her eyes widen and a small smirk graces her full lips. “Are you drunk?”

I sputter and teeter on my feet. Oh hell, she saw right through that. I give her a winning smile. “Off my ass my lady. I didn’t know I’d have company tonight.”

Her eyes shine with mirth for a moment then dull as she sighs. “I was hoping to get a reading tonight, but it seems that won’t be an option.”

I can feel the heat rise to my face. “I’m sorry Countess, but even if I was sober I couldn’t do a reading. The house magician is away and I’ve not talent for it.”

She looks over at me, her brows creasing in the middle of her forehead. “No, I’ve seen this in my dream. It has to be you, you have to do the reading.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I stare at her, mind reeling, head swimming. She’s seeing me in her dreams? Whaaaaat? I’m too drunk for this. 

The Countess continues to speak, “Hear my proposal then, magician. Come to the Palace tomorrow after you’re sober. Give me a reading.”

“Uh, I’m sorry Countess, I’m still confused on the dream part.” I rub my head. She said sleepless nights, but she’s also having dreams. Which is it? Or did I hear her wrong? 

“When I sleep my dreams are haunted by visions of future possibilities. Scenarios playing out that bode ill.”

“Well, if you’re dreaming about me, no wonder you feel that way.” I crack a smile.

She ignores me, “The future I saw, the one that led me to you… is one I will not allow to pass.” The look in her eyes is menacing.

I gulp. Yeah, that does bode ill. “I’m sorry my lady. I’ll do what I can to help stall this foreseen future.” 

She looks relieved, her impeccable posture relaxes a bit. “Then you’ll come to the Palace? You will be well compensated for your time, every luxury you could need will be provided. I only ask that you bring your skill, and the arcana.” 

Well, Asra did leave his deck with me. Was that a coincidence or did he know? “I… I don’t see how I could possibly refuse you, my lady. The arcana I have, but the skill…” I wince. “I’ll bring what I have.”

She nods curtly. Despite my unease she seems placated for the time. “Come to the Palace gates tomorrow, the guards will be aware of your arrival.” She rewraps her shawl around her head, and makes for the door.

“Wait!” I call out, and I stumble over behind the counter. If there isn’t anything I can do now, the least I can do is make her night a bit easier until tomorrow. I rummage around the bottles on the shelf until I find what I’m looking for. “Here,” I hold it out to her. “It’s a sleep potion, enchanted by my master. I hope that it can help you get some rest.”

She gingerly takes the bottle from my grasp and eyes it. “I’ve tried many sleep tonics, what makes you think yours will work?”

I shrug, “It can’t hurt to try another can it?”

She tucks the bottle away into her dress. “I suppose not.”

I stagger over to the door to hold it open for her as she exits. “May your dreams be pleasantly devoid of me.” I smirk. 

She glances at me with an amused expression, “Until tomorrow, magician.” With practiced ease she slides out into the night, disappearing into the growing fog.

I slowly close the door and brace myself against it. What the hell was that? Ugh, I should have let Saffron kick Asra’s ass. At least if he was injured he couldn’t have traveled tonight and I wouldn’t be standing at my shop door at who knows what time of night trying to decide if I just hallucinated the Countess asking me to come to the Palace in the morning. I shuffle over to the counter and grab a random sheet of paper. I need to write this down, if it’s here in the morning then I’ll know I didn’t hallucinate and I’ll know what to do. I scrawl on the paper with a piece of charcoal, “Go to Palace, Countess sleep deprived and insane.” As an afterthought I scribble down “TAROT DECK” below it. 

The world twists as I look up from the paper. I need to go back to bed. Halfway up the stairs I hear a tap-tap-tap on my upstairs window. What now? I wearily peek around the stair entrance to the window. There perched on the sill of the open window is a large black silhouette. I stare at it, my eyes not registering what it is. 

It looks at me with beady eyes and turns it’s head showing a long black beak. “Alright asshole.” It says to me. I don’t know whether to laugh or scream, so instead I stare dumbfounded. Are you kidding me? Malak followed me home? As if sensing I’ve recognized him, he gives a small chortle of laughter, opening his wings wide. What the hell, this whole night has been insane, why not have a talking raven on my window. I walk over to him and sit on the stool by the wardrobe. I’m half surprised he hasn’t flown away yet.

“Hi Malak, come to warn me of the guards, hm?” He clacks his beak in response. I snort, “Would have been nice if you could have warned me about the Countess just a minute ago.” I mumble. He reaches out and grabs a tuft of my hair and preens it. I give a hollow laugh. “Yeah I’m sure I look a fright.” He responds with a low rumble in his throat.

“So this is the witch’s lair,” a deep voice murmurs behind me. My spine goes rigid, and Malak gives an unsurprised squawk. Slowly, I spin my head toward the voice as it continues to speak. “Then… who might _you_ be?” All I see is a towering dark shape in the shadows, a glint of white and a reflection of red.

Drunken instinct takes over and I grab the stool from under me, nearly falling during the motion and I throw the stool at the figure, lurching to get across the room and away from it. 

“En garde then!” the voice says, knocking the stool away with a flourish of cape. Malak squawks again.

I grab one of Asra’s magic crystals from a dresser and my eyes dart across the room trying to take aim. “Where the hell were you on that one, Malak?” I yell and seeing my target I launch the crystal across the room. There’s a sickening crack as it hits it’s mark, and a flash of white hits the floor. The figure wobbles on unsteady feet and I launch myself at it. In my drunken stupor and its dazed moment of weakness we both tumble down the steep stairs and land in a heap on the shop floor. Malak is squawking like mad now, having flown into the shop and landing on the counter wings out.

The world is reeling around me, I moan trying to keep my head and not release the contents of my stomach. I get on all fours and peer over to the figure next to me, who’s spread eagle on the floor, overcoat draped over their face. 

“Malak, quiet down, I can’t hear myself think,” the voice says, and they try to untangle themselves from their overcoat. Malak makes an indignant squawk but quiets down nonetheless. 

Yelping in fright I scurry on hands and knees over to the corner and grab the broom as the intruder extricates themselves from the coat and stands up. Now that I can see them better, it looks to be a man, all legs and arms, dressed in dark clothing. I stand unsteadily and brandish the broom in defense. The man adjusts something on his face, then wipes at the fountain of blood pouring from the side of his head. He gives me an appraising look, sneering down at me and my broom. 

“That took some guts, seems I underestimated you.” He smirks, but his bravado is broken by how hard he’s breathing.

My heart feels like it stops dead in my chest. His face is familiar, sans the eyepatch. The broom in my hand shakes slightly and my eyes dart around the room to find the wanted poster I was brandishing with triumph earlier in the evening. I glance back and forth between the two faces and I swallow. _Fuck_ , I am in no condition to fight off a damn criminal.

“Where’s the witch?” He asks, crossing his arms. He’s looking for Asra? Is that why he had to leave so soon after returning? Was he running from this man? I glare at him.

“What the hell do you want with Asra?” I growl, tightening my grip on the broom. 

“Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to talk to him?” His reply is a bit sheepish. 

I eye him. “No, I wouldn’t. Not after breaking into my shop. Either way, he’s not here and you won’t find him.” 

“Is that so…” He says, distracted. He walks over to the counter and picks up the wanted poster of himself. He holds it up, noticing the dart holes littering his face. “Hey wait a minute,” he glances over the poster at me, looking me up and down, recognition lighting his face, suddenly he gives out a delighted laugh. “You’re the one who won the dart tournament at the Raven!" He turns to Malak, “Look who it is Malak!”

“Alright asshole.” Malak cries.

“I--erm--what?” The stranger asks. “Language Malak!” Malak laughs. The strangers face is aflame with embarrassment. 

I look back and forth between the two dark uninvited figures in my shop. A headache is starting to sear behind my eyes. Suddenly he’s talking again, chatting me up like he hasn’t just broke into my shop, been bludgeoned by a crystal and tackled down a flight of stairs. 

“That was some impressive dart throwing! You and your friend stole the whole night, with the table dancing and singing. It was fun to watch you have a ball. I would have joined you, if you know, I wasn’t Vesuvia’s most wanted.” He says with mirth.

I lower the broom just a bit. What the hell is happening… Are we gonna fight or what? Why are we suddenly best friends? Why does his voice sound familiar? “You… were at the Raven--watching me throw darts at the face of your wanted poster?”

He grins roguishly at me. “Who do you think supplied the wanted posters?” He waggles his eyebrows. 

My bark of laughter comes quick and alarming, and I have to use the broom to keep myself upright. He’s at my side instantly, helping me to stay standing. I wince away from him but he just pats my arm reassuringly.

“You must be three sheets to the wind.” He says absently and leads me over to the reading room to set me down in a chair. Malak gives an encouraging squawk. 

With him this close to me, I can see all the blood that’s marred his coat and face. “Sorry about the…” I gesture to this head. “I think anyway. You should know better than to sneak up on people, especially if you’re only here to _talk._ ”

His blush is almost as red as the blood on his face. "Yes, well, I--erm, that is…" he coughs and releases my arm once he's sure I'm steady. "Don't worry about this," a flourish of a gloved hand to his face, "I've had worse." His expression becomes serious. "I don't know what your relationship with the witch is, and honestly he may even care about you… but a word of advice? Don't trust him."

I look at him dubiously. "Says the man who broke into my shop and roughed me up in the middle of the night."

"Erm… yes, I suppose this whole thing could have gone a bit better."

"If you really just want to talk… Next time, just come during the day?"

He points at his face. "Wanted man."

I bite my lip in thought. "Knock then…?"

He nods. "Just do yourself a favor, when your master comes back, seek me out. Don't be fooled by him."

"Let's say I take your advice, and I try to seek you out when he returns, how do I find you?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"Ask for me by name at the Raven. Barth will know how to get in touch with me."

"And your name is…?" 

With an exaggerated gesture he lays the wanted poster on the table, he gives me another grin and points to his face on the paper. "Name is on the poster, my dear." 

Malak squawks and there's a clatter as something tumbles down the stairs. We both turn to see the white object spin as it reaches the bottom. "Ah, thank you Malak." He grabs the mask and puts it on. "On that note, I'm out of time. Until we meet again." He eyes me with a roguish grin then spins in a flurry of cape, and he's out the door into the night.

I stare at the door. What. The. Hell.


	2. Goat-Man-Thing

The pumpkin bread is a bit stale, but edible, and the tea is divine. If only I could turn off the sun and get rid of this headache, this morning might be salvageable. As it stands I just moan to myself as I pick at my bread and eye the paper that I wrote all over last night to prove I'm not crazy. Which in fact isn't helping me believe I'm not crazy. The page is riddled with my insane scribbles describing the night, never really leaving a coherent sentence. 'Go to palace, Countess sleep deprived and insane. Tarot deck. Cursing raven. Flying crystals. Painful stairs. Handsome burglar. Eyepatch. Don't trust Asra. Go to Barth. Name is on the poster."

I look at said poster, where I must have drawn an eye patch onto the man's face, and where I also seemed to have taken the liberty to draw a very curly mustache. Below the picture I circled the name "Julian Devorak" several times and drew arrows pointing to it. 

So, last night wasn’t just a crazy inebriated dream then. I really do need to go to the palace, to attempt to do what the Countess is requesting of me. I really did tackle a wanted criminal down my stairwell. Looking down at the bloody mess on my floor in my kitchenette, I see droplets leading over to the top of the stairs. I don’t think I’ll have time to clean that up, but it’s not like I’m going to have customers anyway. The shop is in kind of a wreck, so even if I didn’t have a prior engagement, I probably wouldn’t open today so I could clean up. Asra’s tarot deck is sitting on the table along with the papers, looking ominous and innocent at the same time. I tuck said deck into my side satchel and shove a large piece of pumpkin bread in my mouth. Guess it’s time to go.

I open the shop door and looming across the street is a huge mass of a man doing his absolute best to be as small as can be. I smirk and lock the door behind me, double checking all the mechanisms latched correctly and carefully tracing the locking spell circles. I don’t need a repeat of last night.

“Muriel,” I greet the man, he gives me an acknowledging grunt. “Asra send you?” Another acknowledging grunt. I sigh. I look up his towering height, just barely able to see his dark green eyes under his hood. “Hungry? I’m on my way to the palace, but I can grab us a bite to eat.” 

He gives me a harried look and shakes his head. He holds his hand out to me, and I take the small vial from him. “For the hangover.” He mumbles. 

“Thanks,” I smile. “Will you tell Asra something for me? Tell him he’s an asshat.”

The green eyes go wild and he sputters, and I can’t help but laugh. “Wh-what? I’m not telling him that!”

“Sure you will,” I pat his big arm, and begin to take my leave. He hesitantly follows. “Hm? Do you have a message too?”

“No… but Asra would want to know why you’re going to the palace…” He looks down to the ground as we walk.

“Ugh, you two are like mother hens.”

“....sorry.”

I rub my temples. “S’okay. Tell him I had customers after hours last night, and I was summoned to the palace. If he wants to know more, tell him to get his vagrant ass back to Vesuvia to find out.”

Muriel nods and stops following me. I pause as well, looking up at the man and I give him a genuine smile.

“Thanks for checking up on me Muriel, and for the tonic. Don’t be such a stranger, you know you’re always welcome. I’ll be out soon, maybe after this whole palace thing is settled, and I’ll feed the chickens.”

His stormy eyes glimmer, and I can see he wants to tell me something. I wait patiently for him to decide to say it. 

“Be careful… Asra said you’ll be hitting a crossroads soon. Going to the palace could be the start of that journey. Be wary of the uninvited, of offers given when you need them most. Turn them away, or fall into his hand, like the rest of us…” 

“Muriel… why are you being so cryptic? Why so ominous?” I take a step towards him, but he shies away. 

He shakes his head, chains clinking beneath his coat. “Not my story to tell.” He turns and walks down the opposite way down the street. I watch his hulking figure as it disappears around the corner and wait until I can’t hear the chimes of his chains anymore before I turn and head towards the market. 

The market is noisy and full of laughter and bartering. I ignore all of it and walk like a ghost through the throngs of early morning shoppers and merchants hawking their wares. Muriel’s words left a sinking feeling in my gut, and I’m having a hard time processing his words with my aching head. I down the tonic, hoping for the best. I pass the bakery and wave to Selasi, turning his offer of fresh bread down with a smile. 

A familiar chortle from above me draws my attention and I stare up at the raven perched on the overhang of the baker’s shop. I glare at him, “Up to no good so early?” He caws and raises his wings, looking behind me. I turn to see what he’s looking at and my blood runs cold. Damn it, if it isn’t Mr. Wanted himself. Walking around in broad daylight, no mask or anything. What an idiot. He hasn’t spotted me yet, and I risk a glance up at Malak. “What’s the deal with you two?” I ask the bird, not expecting a reply. I watch as he browses the wares of the shops he walks past. He’s awfully nonchalant for a criminal, and a wanted one at that. He looks different in the light of day, not nearly as menacing as the poster depicts him, and that wild shock of auburn hair. Wow. 

Slowly he’s making his way down the market to the bakery where I stand, and I’m in awe of how no one in the market seems to care at all that he’s here. People mill about him, either not noticing him or sometimes even greeting him, and he smiles back with a slight nod. When he reaches only a couple stalls away, Malak gives a shriek, and it immediately gets his attention. A wild gray eye locks onto me, and I cross my arms and give him a look. He has just enough wherewithal to look at me with a sheepish grin before my vision is blocked by a wooden cart filled to the brim with bolts of fabric. When it passes, he’s gone. I look back up to where Malak was perched and see that he’s gone as well.

“Slippery bastards…” I mumble, but if no one in the market seems to care about him, then I suppose there’s no reason to cause a scene. 

I turn up the stairs on my way towards the palace and I hear another familiar laugh higher up on the steps. I see Saffron barking out a deep laugh, standing next to a small red headed girl who’s blushing from head to toe. A pomegranate collides with my foot and pick it up. I ascend the stairs towards them and place the pomegranate into the red heads basket. 

“Thank you,” she says breathless, turning back to stare up at Saffron.

“Well, look who it is!” Saffron’s deep voice bellows out and they clap a hand across my back, pulling me into a half hug. I hiss in pain, but try to endure the affection. “I was just heading over to your shop! I--whoa, what’s with the look?” 

"You're hurting me." I grunt. "Who's your friend?" I change the subject and smile at the redhead. 

She smiles politely and extends her hand to Saffron. "My name is Portia. I'm sorry about earlier," she waves her hand over the basket of pomegranates.

Saffron looks abashed, "Oh honey, no, I bumped into you! I'm just glad we caught them before they rolled into the street. I'm Saffron."

Portia turns to me hand outstretched, "Oh! Oh I know who you are!"

"You do?"

"You're Marion! You’re the magician that the Countess said to be expecting right? You match her description."

"You know the Countess?"

"I'm milady's head servant."

"Oh! You're  _ that  _ Portia," Saffron exclaims, "you're pretty popular around the market. I've heard a lot about you."

"Really? Good things I hope." Portia blushes.

Saffron waves her off, "Don't sweat it honey, all good things. But--" they turn to me mischief gleaming in their brown eyes, "what's this about being a magician? And what's the  _ Countess  _ want with your dull ass?"

I give them a look. "Like you're so much more interesting. Besides, I  _ told  _ her last night that I wasn't a magician but she insisted, so off I go."

"I know a shortcut to the palace if you want to come with me," Portia offers.

"Does it involve climbing an impossible amount of stairs?" I ask.

She laughs at me, "Yes."

"Ugh."

"Honey, you're not going anywhere until you explain what happened last night." Saffron put their hands on their hips.

"You missed a lot of excitement," I muse and give them a summary of my previous nights events.

"I don't believe you." Saffron scoffs.

"What? Why not? I have the bruises to prove it!" I pull the collar of my shirt down over my shoulder to show the bruising from my tackle/tumble down the stairs. Portia looks aghast.

Saffron eyes it, something screwing up in their face, but I can't tell what the expression is. "Right, sure, that's a good cover story for falling your drunk ass down the stairs. I  _ knew  _ I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Pfft, I can take care of myself."

"Whatever. Listen Portia, if it's within your capabilities will you keep an eye out for this klutz for me? Trouble always seems to find her." Saffron pleads.

Portia laughs, "I know exactly the type. I'll do what I can. But we really should be going, lots of stairs to climb."

"Ha! I don't envy you there."

I pout, but I wave my goodbye and follow Portia to the palace.

"Did you really encounter Dr. Devorak last night?" Portia asks, not the least bit winded by our climb.

"What, don't tell me you don't believe me either!" I lament between gasping breaths. My legs are going to be so sore tomorrow.

Her pale skin flushes a bright red. "No! It's not that. It's just… wasn't it scary? What was he like?" She becomes animated by her curiosity.

I take a moment to think back on the encounter. "Yes, I suppose the whole thing was scary, at least at first."

"At first?"

I laugh, "Yeah, would you believe me if I said by the end of it we were at least cordial, if not even somewhat friendly? I mean, somehow I even apologized for hitting him with a crystal."

"Really? Why didn't you tell your friend that, it might have helped ease their anger." 

"You kidding me? I barely made it past tackling him down the stairs before Saffron dismissed me." I pout. "If I had embellished more they would have laughed in my face."

Portia gives me a hard look. "Somehow I doubt that, but I don't know them as well as you. Did you find out why he broke into your shop?"

"He said he wanted to talk to my business partner, Asra. He didn't say why. He did give me a warning about Asra though, after he chatted me up about winning the dart tournament."

Portia looks confused.

"I attended a dart tournament at the Rowdy Raven last night and won. The targets were Dr. Devorak's wanted posters. He claimed to have supplied them himself." I laugh at the memory.

Portia's confusion turns abruptly to anger then exasperation. I cock an eyebrow at her. She flushes but continues, not skipping a beat. "Why didn't you go after him when he left?

"Wha? What was I supposed to do? Pin him down and scream bloody murder? I wasn't exactly at the top of my game last night… Besides, he's still around, I saw him at the market right before I ran into you and Saffron."

"He was where?!" Her anger is back again.

"I swear by the Arcana! He was just milling about being chummy with merchants and the like. Ran off like a scaredy cat when he saw me though." I scratch my chin. "It was so weird, it was like no one at the market recognized him, or if they did they didn't care that he's a wanted man." I look over at the shorter girl and see that she had stopped her ascent and was staring at me like a fish out of water. "You alright?"

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "Yeah, it's just… nevermind." She quickly catches up to me. Anyway, so you're not a magician?"

"Not anymore than you are, unless  _ you're  _ a magician?"

"Oh, gosh no. But, do you think you can help milady?"

"Only one way to find out." I shrug.

She looks down and toys with the handle of the basket of pomegranates. "I hope you can, Marion. Milady could really use some good people on her side."

"Her side?" My eyebrows draw together.

"Would be best for her to explain."

"I see." We've made it to the top of the long stairway, a looming iron gate a small distance away. I look past it towards the white spires illuminated by the afternoon sun. I've never actually been this close to the palace before, I've never had a reason to venture this close. It's much bigger than I thought it would be, it looks like nothing more than a dollhouse from the shop. 

I'm most definitely going to get lost in there.

I steel my nerve and follow Portia.

It seems I'm meant to stay for a period of time. Portia, after talking to a bundle of nerves in a feathered hat commonly known as the Chamberlain, showed me to a guest room and left me, saying to make myself comfortable. I look around the room at all the finery--the silk sheets, the porcelain vases, the impeccable wall coverings and window curtains. I can feel my limbs physically wanting to disappear into my torso, to hide from the delicate decor before I inevitably destroy it in some fashion. This... is going to be an exhausting stay at the palace. 

I flounder, walking about the room, not sure what’s safe to touch, where I should sit. I finally decide to pull out a table chair, and sit at it, not daring to touch the finery on the table itself. I draw my limbs as close to myself as I can, and I wait, looking out the window at the beautiful garden some ten or so feet below. The hedge maze and sculpted shrubbery are amazing, towards the middle of the maze is a towering willow tree and what looks to be a marble fountain. Outside the hedges is an elaborately designed gazebo, I can just barely make out all of the cushions and finery within it. I’m even intimidated to go outside now.

There’s a knock on my door and I startle, not knowing what to do. “Come in?” My voice sounds small and mousy.

Portia pokes her freckled face around the door and gives me a cat-like grin. “Getting comfortable?” I stare at her with wide wild eyes. She laughs and enters the room.

“I can’t stay here.” I say, swallowing my panic.

“Of course you can!” Portia walks over and opens the curtains the rest of the way. “Look at that view! It’s the best view of the garden besides the veranda.”

“Yes, the view is lovely.” I mumble. “But that’s not why I can’t stay here.” She gives me a curious look. “Look,” I point to all of the beautiful, expensive-no- _ priceless _ items, just strewn about the room without a care. “I’m a klutz, everything in this room is going to be broken.”

Portia looks at me for a second, before barking out a loud genuine laugh. “Would you like me to remove some of the breakables?”

I nod emphatically. 

“Ok, I’ll arrange it while you visit with milady. But don’t worry if you do break something, milady isn’t going to arrest you for it. We break things all the time.” She pats my shoulder. “Anyway, she’s waiting to see you in the parlor now, follow me.” 

I check to make sure I have Asra’s tarot cards in my satchel and follow Portia out into the hall.

It’s a short distance to the parlor, but I can feel every heartbeat pound in my chest as we make our way. Here’s the moment of truth, the moment the Countess realizes I’m a fraud and can’t help her. What will she do then? Send me away? Laugh it off, and ask me to send for Asra? Will she exile me from Vesuvia? I swallow a lump in my throat. 

The parlor doors are swung open in front of me and I’m met with even more elegant finery, and an even more elegant woman. Countess Nadia Satrinava sits, with impeccable posture at an exquisite chaise enjoying a small delicate cup of tea. Her flowing lavender dress spills out in front of her, her gorgeous violet ombre hair cascading down her back, she looks up from her cup of tea, red-violet eyes shining from the light of the window. She smiles warmly to me, gracefully setting her tea up down with not so much as a clink onto the saucer. 

I freeze. Oh hell, I’m totally out of my element here. And  _ shit _ is she beautiful. 

“Milady, I’ve brought the magician Marion.” Portia says, elbowing me slightly to enter the room. I glance at her, and she’s giving me another cat-like smile. 

“Thank you Portia,” the Countess says, “Please, have a seat Marion. Would you like some tea?” She gestures to an empty tea cup, gracefully moving to pick up the tea pot. She smirks at me as I continue to stare and not move. “Oh Marion, don’t tell me now that you’re sober, you’ve lost your nerve? What happened to the cheeky shopkeep I met last night?”

I swallow, “It’s called liquid courage for a reason, my lady.” I squeak out.

The Countess’s laughter rings like bells in my ears, the sound worlds away from my bark of a belly laugh. “Please sit,” she begins to pour me some tea, “you’ve nothing to fear from me. You are, after all, my guest.”

I glance at Portia again, and she gives me an exaggerated roll of her eyes before firmly pushing me forward. “Don’t worry, she’s tougher than she looks, you can’t break her.” She whispers in my ear. I nod and as daintily as I can, I sit at the chaise opposite of the Countess. 

“Thank you, my lady.” I murmur, attempting to pick up the tea cup. It clinks against the saucer as my hands shake. The Countess smirks, but doesn’t say anything. I take a sip from the cup and it takes everything in me not to moan from the pleasure. This tea is… well, I said this morning’s tea was divine, but  _ this _ tea, wow. This tea puts the tea Asra got me to shame. I can feel my muscles relax, and now I’m sitting in a puddle of contentment. 

“Do you like the tea?” The Countess asks.

“I'm in heaven.” I sigh. She looks pleased.

“Portia, the door, if you will?” Portia closes the door and guards it, leaving the three of us in privacy.

The Countess sets her manicured hands in her lap and she looks at me with purpose. “I want to thank you again, Marion, for coming to the palace. I apologize for my intrusion to your shop last night… but I’m afraid I’m at my wits end.”

I swallow another sip of tea, then hastily set it down, waving her apology away with my hand. “It’s no trouble, my lady. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more for you last night. I’m sorry for my…  _ state of inebriation _ .” I blush.

“One can hardly be faulted for enjoying one’s evening.” She says with humor in her eyes. “But alas, shall we get down to business? I don’t mean to rush, but the uncertainty is plaguing me.”

I wince. “Ah, about that…” I slowly pull out Asra’s tarot deck. “I’m not sure how clear I was about my… inabilities…” 

“Yes, you said you were not the house magician. I am not concerned, if you will, I would have you do a reading anyway.” Her posture gives nothing away as to what she may be thinking.

I nod slowly, looking down at the deck. The cards feel warm in my hands, like they’re ready to do the thing, I just wish I was  _ able _ to do the thing. However, I know how a reading goes. I’ve seen Asra do an uncountable number of readings, so I’ll just follow the motions. A three card reading should do fine, a past, present, future. I swallow and begin shuffling the deck. I can feel the Countess’s eyes on me, and I can’t help the cold sweat on the back of my neck. 

With shaking fingers I hold the deck out to the Countess, “Nadia Satrinava, will you cut the deck please?” She does so with graceful movements. I then separate the deck into three piles and set them on the table. I can feel my skin tingling, but I’m not sure if it’s just from anxiety or the magic of the cards. I can hear a roaring in my ears, faint but getting stronger. 

“Please pick a deck.” She taps the one in the middle with a delicate pointer finger. I remove the other two decks. The roaring becomes louder, I swallow trying to pop my ears, but it does no good to relieve the sound. From the middle deck I lay out three cards onto the table. 

“This spread is called a 3 card spread.” I say lamely, the roaring in my ears coming even harder now. “It can help guide you through a situation, or help bring meaning to your life in a simple past, present, future setting.” I look up at her, “As per what you said last night, this spread can also be interpreted as a situation, action, outcome reading.” She nods her understanding. I hesitantly reach for the first card. I can feel a cold wind ruffle the hair on my head, I shiver involuntarily. The window must be open. 

“Marion, I know my past, and I know my situation,” The Countess says, I glance up at her, she’s scowling down at the cards. “Is it unheard of to only request the action card?”

Another breeze, another shiver. “I… I don’t know.” I answer honestly. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see what happens.” I touch the middle card, and flip it--

My field of vision goes blank, wind roars in my ears, I shiver from the cold void around me. Slowly, in the distance, small specks of light pop into existence. The blackness churns into a dreamy starry blue. I glance around me, noticing I’m floating in the air, not falling, not rising, just floating. I want to say I’m afraid, but fear doesn’t seize my heart. I’ve been somewhere like this before, I just don’t remember when. I’m hit with some mild curiosity, how did I get here? Why am I here? What happened to the palace? 

I hear my voice speak out, without my permission, echoing slightly in the void. 

“ _...The Magician. _ ” It--me--I? say. I glance around to find the source.

“ _ How very appropriate. _ ” I hear the Countess say. “ _ And what does the Magician hold for me? _ ”

There’s a pause before my-voice-not-my-voice replies. 

“ _You have a plan._ _One that’s important to you._ ”

“ _ And? _ ” The Countess’s voice has a hitch to it now, one of surprise, or apprehension? “ _ Should I set it in motion? _ ”

Suddenly, I feel a hot wet wind gust towards me. I glance around and the sweet, dreamlike starry blue begins to turn purple then a deep red. The hot wind gusts violently, suffocating in its intensity, burning my skin.

“ _ Ahhhh… _ ” I hear a different, unfamiliar voice say. It’s a nasally and imperious sound. “ _ What have we here? _ ” Despite the hot wind, I shiver. “ _ There, in your energy… ohh, it’s him. _ ”

There off in the distance, I can see a figure slowly taking shape. White, with glowing red eyes, horns as black as onyx. I can feel my stomach twist in panic. 

“ _ Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place. _ ” My voice continues.

“ _ Could you be…? _ ” The shape in the distance gets closer. My heart begins to beat wildly. “ _ Yes… yes! _ ” The shape becomes clear, showing me a horrifying white mangy goat-man, it sneers at me. “ _ The Thief! _ ” It lunges at me with long black claws. I dodge, suddenly on solid ground I and skitter away from it.

The red of the sky fades back into the parlor, leaving me disoriented. I look around and I can see the Countess, sitting on her chaise, eyes wide and staring at me. And I can see myself, eyes glowing white, hair floating around in an unfeelable wind. My stomach slams into my guts and I cringe at the panic. What the hell is going on? Why am I outside of my body? 

The goat-man gasps, as he also sees that our surroundings have changed, he’s staring at my body with a single minded purpose, hatred and glee dancing across his goat-face. He glances at me with a smirk and dashes for my body. I yelp and dash for it too, not sure what he wants with it, but damn sure he isn’t going to get it. 

\--I’m hit with a force that slams into me with white hot pain. There’s a crash and a thud, then the sound of liquid being poured onto carpet. I open my eyes with a wince, glancing up at a shocked Countess from my position across the room on the floor. I look over at the table and see the tea set thrown askew, cups shattered and tea pot overturned, tea spilling onto the expensive carpet. 

“Marion!” I hear the Countess exclaim, but her voice is muffled. I can feel myself losing consciousness, losing control and drifting away.

I hope I didn’t get tea on Asra’s cards... 

I look at the new bruises blossoming across my shoulders and chest from the reflection of the washroom mirror. You wouldn't think being thrown across the room from an unknown force would cause such damage. But then again, who ever expects being thrown across a room by an unknown force? How often does that even happen? 

I frown. Magic. Yay.

I splash some water on my face and walk out of the washroom while drying it. When I look up there's a mass of red hair walking about my room and I jump almost out of my slippers. "Portia!" I squeak, then realize I'm half naked from my examination in the washroom. I hold the towel over my chest and fight back the blush.

Portia laughs while she fluffs the pillows on my bed, reorganizing them from my "nap" I took after the events in the parlor. "I'm glad to see you're awake, we were getting worried, it's almost dinner time." She gestures to a folded pile of clothes sitting at the head of the bed. "Milady picked an outfit for you to wear to dinner, if you'd like to wear it. She feels awful about the incident in the parlor. I'll take your clothes to be laundered while you eat." She spins around and plops down in the bed eyes bright with curiosity. " _ Now _ ," she says with excitement, "that was amazing! I thought you said you weren't a magician? Your eyes were  _ glowing _ ! So cool."

I blanche at the memory, "Still not a magician." I mumble and hold up what I think is the shirt to the outfit. "How do you wear this?" 

"I'll help you." She begins to deftly untangle the outfit and help me into it. "So, how did you do that then?"

I follow her wordless directions to clothe me and reply, "I don't know, I was… I was seeing it all from outside of my body. Does that make sense?"

Portia looks up at me from behind. "No." 

I sigh. "Well, that's what happened. Like the cards or something possessed me and threw me out of my body. The words I spoke weren't mine."

She gives a concerned look, "Is that a normal thing when giving a reading?"

I laugh sardonically, "No, that's not normal. Asra says the Arcana talk  _ to  _ him, not  _ through  _ him, and his eyes certainly don't  _ glow. _ "

Portia tightens something on the outfit and moves back to my front. "So, then was it that something that possessed you that sent you across the room? I was figuring it might have been the strength of the magic or something mystical like that."

I shake my head. "No that was most likely the goat-man-thing."

Now it's her turn to blanche. "Then it's real? You encountered it?"

My eyes widen, "You mean others have seen it too?"

She sits back down on the bed and I follow. "Some of the staff… they say there's a white goat spectre that haunts the 'Menagerie Gallery' in the Count's old wing. I've never seen it myself. I always thought it was an excuse to shirk duties. 'Ooohhh the Gallery Ghost got me!'" She imitates a fellow servant. "'I didn't mean to be gone so long~ he wouldn't let me go~' Stuff like that." She gives me an owlish look. "But to think there might  _ actually  _ be a ghost…"

I shrug, "It might not be a ghost. I encountered him in a sort of in-between realm. I've read some about it in Asra's magic tomes. Really powerful magicians can go there, make themselves a 'gate', like a safe place. Even some people who have a strong affinity with an Arcana can visit an Arcana's realm by going to the in-between." I scratch my neck in thought. "Maybe the goat-man is a magician? Can't be an Arcana, he would have eaten me alive. Or maybe he was also forced from his body, and is now stuck in the in-between?"

Portia swallows. "So… not alive, but not dead?"

"Maybe?" I shrug again. 

"...will you be forced from your body again? Could you end up like it?" Portia whispers in shock.

I shiver. "Let's hope not." I stand, "Help me get the rest of this on? I'm sure the Countess has the same questions for me."

"Of course."

Portia wasn't kidding when she said it was almost dinner time. My stomach is roiling on itself, echoing down the hallway as we head to the dining hall. She grins at me as she leads the way, and all I can do is blush and follow. 

We stop in front of a beautifully carved mahogany door, when she opens it I'm assaulted with delicious scents of exotic dishes and my mouth waters. The dining hall is a rich red room, accented with white and gold, the table itself covered in a white tablecloth most likely of the finest material, with golden painted chairs and golden candle holders. Even the dishes had a golden hue. 

To be blunt, it's very gaudy and bougie, and not at all my kind of scene. But the food smells divine, and I suppose I can handle trying to figure out which is the salad fork and which the soup spoon in order to take part in a fine meal like this. 

Portia leads me to a chair towards the far end of the room, sitting to the right of the head of the table. I take my seat, and glance about the table, then I make the mistake of looking up at the painting on the wall. Immediately all hunger subsides and I can feel a chill run down my spine. 

There in the center of a very colorful painting, is a white goat with red eyes. He sits in the middle of a table laden with food, surrounded by other figures with animal characteristics. Almost like the goat is providing for the other animals, and they stare at him with adoring eyes. The goats head is surrounded by rays of gold, further accenting that he is the main focus of the painting. I try to swallow but my mouth is dry.

"Thank you for joining me for dinner, Marion." The Countess's voice purrs next to me, and I jump in my chair slightly. I look over to see her taking her seat at the head of the table. "I'm delighted to see you are unharmed after today's ordeal. I'm terribly sorry I put you through that."

I smile at her, "You did nothing wrong, my lady. I just hope you got the answer you were seeking." My eyes unwillingly slide back to the painting.

"I believe I did receive the answer… Do you like the painting?"

I'm startled again and rip my eyes away to look back at her, her face amused and curious.

"Do I like the… no. No, I'm afraid I don't like the painting." I blush slightly.

Her bell of a laugh catches me off guard. I must be at the end of my rope tonight, everything is making me jittery. 

"So honest! Dear Marion, that is a wonderful trait to have. I must confess, I don't like it either." She gives the painting a quick look over. "It was one of my husband's favorites, so mayhaps I keep it for sentiment." How she could make a shrug look graceful, I don't know, but there it is. 

Servants come around and start filling our plates with the meal before us. I have no idea what most of these dishes are, and I had every intention to try them all, but I peek over at the painting again and my appetite recoils further from my grasp. 

It's too close to what the goat-man looked like. It's as if it could be what he was before getting trapped in the in-between realm and becoming mangy and gross. It's very unsettling.

"The goat in the middle is supposed to represent Count Lucio. Or at least I believe that was the intention." She gives the painting a haughty look. I'm startled once again for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, soaking in that information. Count Lucio… the goat-man? Surely not.

"It's supposed to represent him providing for the people." She continues. "Though, all anyone can claim he provided was impeccable entertainment." She takes a delicate bite of her meal. I watch as she chews, a pensive look on her face. "The people remember his Masquerades with fondness, always looking forward to them every year. Did you ever attend one?"

I open my mouth to answer, but I'm cut short by the revelation that I don't remember if I have or not. I remain silent.

"We held it for my husband's birthday celebrations, all of Vesuvia was invited to attend." She gives her food a bitter look. "The Masquerades stopped after my husband's death, the event marred with bitterness… after Count Lucio was murdered at the last Masquerade."

I remember hearing about it, mainly rumors and the like. No one outside of the Court truly knew what happened that night. Most stories end the same way though, with the Count retiring to his room, which was later engulfed in flames. They supposedly caught the arsonist on the spot, but he managed to escape custody before the execution. 

"Such a vicious injustice done upon this house." The Countess continues. "That Marion, is why I asked you here. Why I asked for a reading. Today, I was given the answer I sought through the Arcana."

I look at her wide-eyed. "My lady… I don't follow. I'm glad I was able to give you your answer, but how else could I possibly be of use?"

"I intend to hold the Masquerade once more." She says, the gravity of it hitting the room, all attention from her servants directed to her. I glance around at them, the announcement seems to be of importance to them. 

"That's… um, nice? I guess? Still not following how I can help." I pick at my nails underneath the table for something to take my antsiness onto.

"I need your help tying up a loose end. The Count's murderer still roams free. Thus far he has been elusive, but I've seen it in my dreams, that you would be the one to find him."

"Me? I'm not a detective, I'm a shopkeep!" I stare at her like she's grown a second head.

"It has to be you. After your reading this afternoon, I'm more than convinced that you will prevail." She looks so sure…

"Okay… who am I looking for, then?" I ask, defeated.

"Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband's former physician." She spits his name out like it tastes vile on her tongue. I suppose it would, to her.

The blood drains from my face and I stop fidgeting. So, that's what he is wanted for then. It didn't say on the posters. I think back to my hazy recollection of my encounter with him. I suppose her dreams are already correct… technically I've already found him.

"Doctor Devorak confessed to the crime three years ago. All that is left is for justice to be served. It  _ must  _ be served, in order for the city to heal, to move on. I intend for the deed to be done to commence the festivities of the next Masquerade." She suddenly looks tired, but resolved. 

"The… deed, my lady?" I ask, voice thick.

"Execution by hanging."

My breath gets caught in my throat, and behind me something shatters on the floor.

"Portia?" The Countess says in alarm. I look behind me to see Portia standing stock still, horror masked onto her pale face. 

"F-f-forgive me milady. Slippery fingers." She squeaks, bending down to start picking up the ruined dessert. Servants dash in around her to help.

"You are forgiven." The Countess says without a second thought.

I watch the servants clean up the mess, then turn back to the Countess. I'm sure my eyes are as wide as the tea saucers that were broken this afternoon. She watches me with interest.

"That's, um, a bit morbid, isn't it?" My voice is shaky. I can't imagine the man I met last night being a murderer, let alone seeing him hang. And  _ surely _ not as the beginning of what is supposed to be fun and entertainment.

She sighs and closes her eyes in thought. "It's not something that I relish doing. However, I have a responsibility to this city and its people. As it's Countess, I must see this through."

All I can do is nod. What do you say to that? Can you tell a Countess no? It's admirable that she feels this way towards her people, but… something doesn't feel right. I have many friends who are criminals in some fashion, it feels like a betrayal to be the one to catch and condemn someone to hang. 

The Countess nods back to me and stands, I follow suit. 

"Portia." She calls out. There's no answer. "...Portia." She says again. 

"Yes milady!" Portia squeaks, and rounds the corner of the hall, I can still see the remnants of the chocolate of the dessert on her fingers. 

"Will you escort Marion back to her room?"

"Right away, milady."

"Marion, we can discuss what information I can offer you tomorrow after you've had more rest. Please feel free to ask for anything you need while you stay here at the palace."

"Of course, thank you my lady." I say, then I turn to Portia who escorts me from the dining hall. 

Portia is quiet as we navigate back to my room. She seems shaken, but also standoffish. I decide to leave her be. We reach my room and she ushers me inside.

"Have a good night, Marion. I'll wake you with breakfast in the morning." She turns to leave.

"Good night, Portia." I give a small smile, she takes a moment, but she returns it, then scurries off.

Closing the door, I survey my guest room, and I'm relieved to see that Portia made good on her word. Most of the expensive and unnecessary breakables have been removed. Others are replaced with a more sturdy substitute. I smile, Portia is good people.

I ready myself for bed, and I sit on the edge, looking out towards the dark window. Everything about this whole situation feels… off. I'm not sure I have much control over any of it. What little there is for me to control, I need to seize it and make it right. 

I just don't know what that is.

I lie down in the bed and then my stomach rumbles. I groan, it's going to be a long night with an empty stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had these two chapters ready to go, so figured I'd put them out asap so that maybe I could hook a few people in. ;) Stay tuned, more to come.


	3. Getting Handsy

The sky is once again that dreamy starry blue, looking around I notice that instead of floating I'm standing on a black cobblestone path. I can feel a slight breeze, hear the rustling of trees off in the distance. This landscape is far more inviting than the floating abyss of blue that I experienced before. I warily eye my surroundings keeping an eye out for the red glowing eyes, but I get the feeling that I won't encounter that beast here.

Up ahead on the path I can see a large lumbering animal coming to a stop at a fork in the road. A figure falls from the creature with graceful light feet. The hat and scarf the figure wears look familiar.

" _ Asra… _ " I can hear my voice say barely above a whisper, my hand reaching out without my permission. This again huh? It's unnerving to be a bystander to your own body. " _ Asra. _ " My voice says with more strength and my body steps forward.

The figure up ahead stops dead in their tracks, head whipping wildly towards me. Even from this distance I can see the lavender eyes of my master, open as large as saucers staring me down. 

" _ Asra! _ " My voice yells, the hope I feel in it is almost heartbreaking. Suddenly with a mysterious force my body is propelled forward, Asra stands ready to catch me. As soon as we touch there's a bright flash, and suddenly I'm standing in my shop. I look around at the familiar objects, counter full of trinkets, magic circles drawn hastily on scrap paper, but no Asra. 

My lips tug down into a frown as the odd sensation of familiarity and confusion mix inside my head. Same as yesterday I smell the aroma of fresh pumpkin bread through the window before I hear the locks of the shop door rattle. I feel the urge to place my hands on my hips and glare at the incoming form, but my body doesn't obey. It stands stock still, shaking slightly from the nervous tension.

The white puff of hair peeks around the door, lavender eyes guarded as before, sheepish smile in place. Something warm and tight blooms in my chest, and suddenly it's hard to breathe.

"I see you found my bag." He says just as before, but there's something different in the way he looks around.

_ Oh, those dimples… I almost forgot.  _ I think in my head. Great now even my thoughts aren't my own. 

Asra's smile fades and he looks concerned. "You're not angry with me?" He's holding the pumpkin bread before him the same as yesterday, but it seems like he's just barely holding onto the loaf.

" _ How could I, dear Asra? My beautiful, handsome Asra. _ ” My voice says.

With a strangled cry, the loaf of bread falls to the floor and suddenly I’m engulfed in strong caramel arms, arms that are shaking and aren’t sure where to rest on my back. “Is it you?” He chokes out, voice hot in my ear. “Is it really you? I thought--I thought I felt you earlier today but… I just couldn’t--I couldn’t hope--”

My hand reaches up and curls my fingers into his white downy hair. “ _ Yes, it’s me. It’s really me. _ ” My voice says. His arms tighten impossibly around me, and my body laughs of its own accord. 

“I can’t believe it,” he pulls away enough to grab my face staring deep into my eyes. Tears in his brimming, threatening to tumble down his cheeks. “I knew it, though, deep down. I knew you were out there.”

A smile tugs at my lips, my hands reach to cup his soft face. “ _ Dear sweet diligent Asra, I knew we’d meet again. I never lost faith in us. _ ”

His pupils suddenly blow wide open, his face flushing. Slowly he guides my face towards his.

Whoa, whoa! What? I’ve never seen this face on Asra before!

“Oh Miranda,” he breathes, breath hot on my lips. “How I’ve missed you…” Slowly, ever so slowly he touches his lips to mine. I can feel my body melt in his arms, and my lips press hard against his, aching and wanting. His kiss is sweet, like honey, my body responding to him in ways it never has before.

I feel a jolt of alarm, Miranda? This isn’t meant for me. Asra has never kissed me this way, though over the years we’ve shared many kisses; they were all chaste expressing love but not passion. This was  _ passion _ , and I feel like an intruder in my own body. 

My voice moans, and it’s enough of an alien sensation that I’m thrust away from the scene, the shop disappearing back to the starry blue then nothing but black.

I awake with a start, the bright morning sun shining across my face making me wince. I groan and try to block the rays from hitting me square in the eyes, and I peek around the room. I see no familiar objects, and it takes me a minute to remember that I’m staying in the palace as a guest of the Countess. I wave a hand in front of my face and sigh with satisfaction that I again have control over my body. I sit up just in time for Portia to burst into the room a tray of something that smells divine resting on one hand.

“Good morning, Marion!” She says too loudly, too cheerfully. Damn it, she’s a morning person. I groan in my head. At least she seems to have gotten over whatever was plaguing her last night. "I brought you some breakfast. I bet you're starving, you didn't touch your food last night."

My stomach wails in response. She gives a light hearted laugh. She sets the tray down on the table by the window.

"Thank you, Portia." I yawn, stretching and pulling the covers away from my legs. "For the food, and also for making my room more klutz-proof."

She waves me off, "Don't mention it." Then clicks her tongue at me to remove myself from the bed. I head to the food my stomach is singing serenades to and I watch her tidy my room as I eat.

"So, what now?" I ask rubbing an eye and taking a bite of honey drenched English muffin.

"Milady has a few pre scheduled meetings this morning, but she intends to get you the information she has as soon as possible. In the meantime, let's get you dressed and ready for the day!" She swings open a wardrobe and starts looking through the clothes within. 

"I'm sorry you have to keep dressing me. I would have brought more clothes if I had known I'd be staying." I mumble. 

The redhead laughs, setting out an elegant outfit that I eye warily. "Even if you brought clothes it wouldn't matter. Milady loves to shower her guests with gifts, and fashion is a passion of hers. So the outfits were going to happen, no matter what." 

"Well at least there's that." I stand, dusting the crumbs from my fingers. "Let's get this over with." Portia laughs.

The door to the library quietly closes and I'm left behind, alone, in the solemn library. 

I sit at the desk the Countess had shown me, glancing over the organized chaos strewn about it. A lot has happened in the last 36 hours and I'm positive it's not about to calm down. It feels nice to be in solitude surrounded by knowledge, it's very serene. I grab a book from atop the desk and flip it open to a random page. The book is worn and the original text is faded, pages yellowed. Splattered all over most pages are notes of varying ages, written in an awful script that is almost impossible to decipher. I take a peek at the title of the book;  _ The Theory of Bloodletting: Extracting Contagion Via Hirudo Medicinalis vol. 3. _

Wow, that title is a mouthful. Not surprising though, considering some of the medical journals I read often. This tome seems to be a few years out of date. From my understanding Bloodletting is falling by the wayside, but I can't blame the doctor, he hasn't been at this desk in at least 3 years. 

I lean back in the chair and idly flip through the book. I'm not really sure I'm going to get any useful information from this desk. The Countess wants me to find the doctor, to bring him to justice. I already know where to find him, assuming he wasn't lying. Maybe that's my starting point. If he is there though, what do I do then? Call the guard?

I involuntarily cringe at the thought. I can't do that, Barth would never trust me again. I'd never be allowed back to the Rowdy Raven. Saffron would be pissed if we couldn't go back. So, scratch that.

Perhaps I can lure him out of the Raven to another part of town? Maybe have some sort of ambush waiting? I frown and stare at a detailed sketch of a leech. Then again, why should I feel inclined to do as the Countess wishes? I may not personally remember the Count, but by what I've heard of him, the city seems so much better without him. I know Saffron wasn't a fan, and it's hard to meet a person Saffron doesn't like. 

What if he's not even guilty? Confessions have been known to be coerced… 

I think back to the night before, my memory is a bit cloudy, at the tall lanky man in black. He said he wanted to talk with Asra. What does he need from Asra? He also seemed so menacing at first, then his facade slipped to almost an excited teenager. He was pleasant and friendly towards the end of our encounter. Then I think back to seeing him stroll around the market without a care in the world. 

The man is an enigma, or stupid. Maybe both.

I close the tome and set it back on the pile of books. I grab the folio next flipping through pages of detailed sketches, more indecipherable scribbles. The sketches are fairly well drawn, my eyes follow the lines recognizing body parts, muscle structures, nerve pathways. The cross section of an eye is very well drawn and I'm entranced at seeing the inner workings. It would be interesting to ask him about these drawings.

...maybe that's what I should do. Would it hurt to just talk to him? The Countess said I could do my search as I see fit. Would it be considered aiding and abetting if I knew where he was and went to talk to him without turning him in? 

I close the folio and glance at the library window. It's a little past noon, the Raven should be open for business by now. At the very least I can leave a message with Barth to get to the doctor, see if he would be willing to meet with me, and I can be back in time to have dinner with the Countess. If I can be on decent terms with the doctor, then when I make a decision on what to do, I'd at least have an advantage. 

Well, it's a start at least. I make to set the folio down, then I stash it in my side satchel instead. I'd really like to look more at the illustrations, I hope I'm not breaking any laws or anything. With purpose I leave the palace and make my way across town to the Rowdy Raven.

It feels good to be out of the palace. I almost feel normal again. I had managed to hail a gondola, maybe being seen coming from the palace, or dressed in the finery that the Countess has loaned me, made me more appealing to the gondolier. I sit back and watch the city slide by, see the sky begin it's start into mid-day.

My chest suddenly tightens, anxiety ripping at my insides. I do my best to breathe normally, glancing sideways at the gondolier to make sure he hasn't noticed my distress. I think the events of the last two days are finally starting to hit me. Becoming "employed" by the Countess, having my shop broken into, my body taken over by  _ something _ while trying to do a reading, then attacked by a man-goat-thing in the process...

"You alright, miss?" The gondolier asks. 

Startled, I glance up at him, somehow I had huddled myself into a little ball taking short shaky breaths. I flush in embarrassment, "Yeah, sorry, been a long couple of days." I mumble. He nods and goes back to his business.

I rub my face and eyes hard enough to see stars. What the hell is going on, and why the hell isn't Asra here to explain it? Magic shit is finally happening in my life and he's just trolloping about the countryside making friends with rabbits or something. I wonder if Muriel would have any insight. His magic is different from Asra's, but he certainly knows more about magic than I do.

I'm shaken from my thoughts as the gondola bumps up against the landing. I pay the man and make my way farther into the South End. The sun is hidden behind the tall buildings, making the canal walkways dark with shadow, but I know my way around this part of town fairly well, and my feet absentmindedly take me to the Rowdy Raven. I hesitate in front of the familiar three-step stair looking down out over at the canal. Has the water always been this red? I know there’s a clothier up at the Floating Market that likes to sell brilliant red cloth, I wonder if they had a spill of their dye and it’s just making its way down the canal? I blindly reach for the Raven’s door, still looking back at the reddish water. That would have had to be a large amount of dye to not have diluted by now. I wonder if the algae in the canal are also--

Suddenly pain flares against my nose and forehead as I turned to see why I hadn’t grabbed the door handle. I see stars and curse, tumbling backwards tripping on the shitty stonework of the walk path and falling backwards into a barrel butt first. I stare stupidly at my knees, kicking to try and dislodge myself. My arms are pinned to my side, and my attempt at flailing rocks the barrel back and forth.

A mess of auburn hair pokes itself over the side of the barrel, one large grey eye looks down at me with bewilderment and amusement. “Hello there, that was quite the tumble, are you all right?” 

“Do I look all right to you?” I snarl, “Who in the bloody hell is ok after falling ass first into a barrel?!” I flail even harder, the rocking of the barrel that much more prominent. 

“Fair point, look don’t struggle so hard you’ll fall into the canal.” The barrel suddenly stops rocking and a black gloved hand reaches into the barrel. I try to grab it, but my hands are pinned. I look up to my rescuers face and our eyes meet and we both gasp.

“Doctor Devorak!”

“The Shopkeep!” We both say in unison. Well, at least he was easy to find. “What are you doing here?” the doctor continues.

I glare up at him, “What the hell do you mean, ‘What am I doing here?’”

“Ah, right, well then, upsy-daisy.” He tries to grab my wrists to help me out of the barrel but pulling on them doesn’t do anything, my shoulders are pretty well stuck. He gives my position a long glance, then snakes his long gloved fingers over to my ankles and gives a hard tug, which manages to get my elbows free enough for me to stick my arms out. He grabs them again and with a heave I’m extricated from the barrel with an audible pop. The momentum sending the doctor backwards onto his ass and me onto his lap against his chest. 

We freeze in stunned silence, I can feel my face flaring red just as his does. We attempt to disentangle ourselves, and it’s nothing but a mess of limbs and apologies, but I manage to get to my feet and help him back to his. 

I stare down at the ground, utter embarrassment shaking me to my core. “I know I’m a klutz, but this shit takes the cake.” I say to myself, adjusting my clothing back into place. 

“Did I hit you with the door?” He asks in a pained voice. I glance up and see his face is white as a ghost and he’s staring at my forehead. The glow from the tavern lights awash his face and clothing, letting me for the first time to get a really, really good look at him. He doesn’t have his black jacket on, instead he’s clothed with just a messy, billowy white undershirt that isn’t buttoned all the way exposing a white and lean chest covered in thin reddish chest hair. His face in this aghast expression looks nowhere near as menacing as my memory suggests, and dare I say he looks roguishly handsome. I feel my face getting redder by the second. 

Oh sure, of course I’d be physically attracted to the most wanted criminal in Vesuvia, Saffron would be so proud of me now. 

“Ah, maybe?” I mumble, looking away, maybe I could crawl back into that barrel… He looks stricken. “It’s ok though, I should have been watching what I was doing.” I touch my forehead and nose, feeling for any blood. Seems like I got lucky this time. 

He takes a step towards me, hands outstretched. “Does it hurt?”

I back up a step and wave my hands. “I assure you, my pride is hurting way more.”

He seems relieved and goes to hold the door open for me. “Let me buy you a drink then, to apologize.”

I give him a genuine smile, “Sounds good to me, doctor.” After yesterday, I’d  _ love _ a drink.

The tavern is in full swing, just as I had suspected. I peek around to see what familiar faces I can see. Old Linus is sitting against the wall, Barth in his usual place behind the counter, I wonder if Wynne is here yet, or if she's just in the evenings? Netta and her new girlfriend are engrossed in a card game with a small entourage of spectators taking bets around them.

The doctor takes the lead into the back of the tavern, Barth nods his head to the doctor, but his smile freezes when he sees me trailing behind, I give a sheepish half wave. I almost run into the doctor as his progress is halted by Linus who's stuck his pegleg out to block our way and is looking at Barth and cackling loudly. The doctor tuts at the drunken fool and pushes his leg aside. 

"Behave yourself, Linus." I scold him as I pass.

"Speak for yourself, Marion." He winks at me and cackles again. I blush and continue on, glancing back at Barth who is watching me intently. Somehow I feel like I'm the brunt of a joke, or hidden bet. Or maybe I'm going to be in trouble later.

Doctor Devorak stops at one of the cozy booths in the back and turns to me with a smile. "You make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back." I do just that, and watch him with interest as he gets chummy with Barth at the bar. They laugh at a joke I can't hear. Barth seems comfortable in the doctor's presence, so I take that as a good sign I'm in ok company. 

Barth gets my attention as the doctor turns away from him. He gives me a flabbergasted look and mouths "Julian Devorak? Really? Saffron is going to tan your hide!"

I blanch, and Linus cackles again.

With a grace belying his lanky limbs, the redhead slides into the booth and sets my drink down in front of me. I look down at it. Are you kidding me? I glance at Barth and he's pointedly not making eye contact with me. 

"So, what brings you around these parts? Rumor has it you're working for the palace now." He takes a long gulping drink.

As soon as he takes it from his mouth I snatch it away, replacing it with mine. The look on his face would be comical if I wasn't so irritated with Barth for giving me a pussy drink. I turn towards Barth and make a show of downing the rest of the glass. I can't say I don't enjoy the way my muscles and mind relax at the introduction of the alcohol.

Across from me, the doctor gives a hearty laugh and an appraising look. 

"What if I am?" I peer at him, looking for any kind of reaction. 

He gives me a pensive look. "How long?" He asks, looking to try and play his interest as just mild curiosity.

"Officially? About 3 hours, or so, I'd guess."

He gives me a menacing smile. "Didn't take you long to come find me then. Going to take me away in chains?"

I give him my own menacing smile. "Would you believe me if I said I just came here to talk?"

Another hearty laugh. "Come to hear my side of the story then, have you?"

"I have, if you'll indulge me." I give him a serious look.

He makes a show of interlocking his fingers and gives me a coy look. "I would, indulge you that is." The heat returns to my cheeks. "You know, I never did get your name, Investigator."

"Marion."

"Ahh, Marion, now  _ that  _ is a name. Such strength, such presence." He takes a drink from the switched cup and coughs, eyeing its contents. "No wonder you switched them." I chuckle as he pushes the cup towards the edge of the table, as far from him as possible. "Anyway," he casually grabs my hand, his leather gloves are surprisingly soft, his hand dwarfs mine. I allow him to keep it, I'm slightly charmed by his easy going flirtatious nature. "What would you like to know, Marion?"

"Why is your handwriting so atrocious?"

He barks a laugh, letting go of my hand to lean back in the booth, lazily draping his limbs every which way. "What a strange line of questioning."

I lean forward excitedly, pulling my satchel open and grabbing a random sheet from within the folio. "I have to say though, your illustrations are delightfully detailed." I glance at the sheet, seeing the swirled lines mapping across the surface, notes scribbled on the margins. A brain perhaps? I hand him the drawing.

The mirth in his face visibly drains as his eye scans the paper. Maybe I should have looked for the eye diagram instead, maybe the brain wasn't a good choice. I try peeking over the top of the paper to see if I missed something. My curiosity dissipates as he looks up at me with a dull grey eye.

"Where did you find this?" 

"It was on your desk, in the palace library."

He breaks eye contact, pain dancing on his face for the briefest of seconds. "Oh, well… this is a slice of ah… of a human brain. The patterns are unique, actually, to each individual." 

That catches my attention. "Really? I didn't know that. Does that mean this drawing was sketched from an actual specimen?" 

I see his body stiffen, he eyes me warily. 

"Wow, I didn't realize the Red Plague was so bad that they'd temporarily lift the ban on human dissection." 

He sets the paper on the table facedown, he steeples his fingers and rests his chin on his thumbs. "Not around for the Red Plague I take it?"

"Honestly?" I rest my chin in my hand and pick at a gouge in the table top. "I'm not sure. I don't remember anything from before 3 years ago."

He gives an ill-humored chuckle. "Seems like everyone's lives changed 3 years ago." 

"Hmm," I agree. "Well, I was going to ask you to translate your handwriting for me, but it seems a sore topic to see your old work, and I'm not one to trudge up bad memories." I pull the rest of the folio out of my satchel and set it on the table. I hold my hand out to reclaim the illustration. 

He eyes the folio, "What else did you take from my desk?" The humor is back on his face as he hands me the paper.

I laugh as I return the paper and folio back into my satchel. "This was all I took. It seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up talking to the artist of medical illustrations. Though I hope you've been keeping yourself up to date on the medical literature, your  _ Theory of Bloodletting  _ volume was quite a few years out of date."

His face flares in a blush. "Erm… if you'll excuse me." He whisks the steins away and heads back to the bar.

I wonder if I offended him? I look down and pick at the gouge in the table some more, attempting to stamp down my embarrassment.

There's sudden excitement from the card table and I look up just in time to see the doctor being doused with a drink. He shakes the liquid from his shirt as he laughs and retakes his seat. "I should know better than to get involved."

I laugh too. "You better watch yourself with Netta, she's a wild card." I'm more relieved than I should be that he seems to not have taken offense. 

"I'll remember that."

I glance out the window and I see the sun has set already. Shit, I'm supposed to have dinner at the palace. "Well, Doctor Devorak, I'm late for a previous engagement. It's been a pleasure."

"Julian." He says abruptly. "Please call me Julian."

I blush, "Okay, Julian." I'm absurdly pleased with the way his name feels on my tongue. Get a grip girl.

He reaches forward and touches my forehead ever so slightly. "I'm sorry about your head."

I laugh, "Don't worry about it. Just another bruise to add to my growing collection."

His face is aghast. "Collection…?"

I stand and straighten my clothes. "Don't tell me you managed to go bruise free after that tumble down the shop stairs?" 

I didn't think his face could get paler, but there it goes. "I--erm--"

His stammering is cut off by a wild screech from a black blur shooting across the rafters. It collides bodily into a line of bells and suddenly it's absolute chaos. Multiple cries of “Guards!” ring out. Everyone is up and dashing about, jumping out of windows, cramming out of doors. Cards and liquid dance in the air. 

I stand in awe watching the scene, until I'm thrown bodily over a tall shoulder. I barely have time to register that it's Julian before I'm placed back down on the ground in the back alley. He glances about wildly and tucks us into the shadows. 

Oh no, I hope he doesn't think I brought the guards here…

He looks down at me, I can tell he's fighting back the urge to bolt, but he grabs my arms instead. "You can find your way, yes?"

I nod, "Run, I'll distract the guards."

"I--what?" His eye is wide.

"Run you dope, I'll cover your escape." 

He squeezes my arms and gives me a smile, "Thanks. For well… just thanks, Marion." I return his smile and watch him disappear into the shadows. 

I hail the guards as they round the corner and reassure them I didn't see anyone else in the alleyway. Luckily they're able to call me a carriage so I might be able to make it to dinner with the Countess on time.

I am, of course, late for dinner. I arrive at the dining hall red faced and ashamed. The Countess is still sitting at the head of the table, nursing a goblet of some kind of rose colored wine, her dessert half eaten on her plate. 

"I'm so sorry my lady," I lament, sincerely apologetic. I sigh and take my seat at the table, Portia comes over and pours me some of the wine. "I lost track of time, and honestly, if I hadn't run into the guard, and begged for a carriage I wouldn't have made it at all." 

The Countess just gives me an amused smile, taking a sip from her wine. "Please feel free to use the carriages as you wish. You may need them in the future."

I look up startled. "I--really?"

She smiles at me from over the lip of her glass. "Of course. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything. Even if it doesn't have to do with the search for Doctor Devorak."

I'm not sure what to say to that, so I just nod. 

"I only have a small amount of business that I wanted to speak with you about this evening." She sets her wine glass down. "My Courtiers are most eager to meet you. I'd like to introduce you to them tomorrow afternoon in the parlor." She gets a sour look on her face. "They're demeanor can come across as uncouth, and they will most likely ask an unseemly amount of questions… Just be mindful of what information you wish to tell. I will inform them of the Masquerade at this time as well, I imagine they will be ecstatic."

I sip at the floral wine, and hum at the taste. This is the kind of stuff you have to watch out for, it'll get you shit faced in no time flat. The Countess seems amused as she watches me drink.

"We will also be making the Masquerade announcement to the people of Vesuvia tomorrow at noon. I have Portia to lead a retinue to the Town Square. I imagine word will spread across the city quickly, no doubt the people will rejoice with the news." She looks over at the unsettling painting, a pensive look on her face. "I imagine the crowds would be eager to see Count Lucio's murderer hang." 

I swallow a lump in my throat. I remember the worried expression on his face as he touched my forehead, the way he waited to make sure I would be okay before dashing to escape the guards. I imagine that man hanging from the gallows. It leaves a sour heavy feeling in my gut. I feel a shiver down my spine. I can’t look at her, and I stare down at my glass.

“I had wanted to spend dinner to take the time to get to know you.” She says, her casualness after her last statement seeming out of place. “I have many questions about you, but alas the hour is late. Unless, you’d care to join me on the veranda for a nightcap?” She regards me with interest, probably seeing my discomfort. She looks around at the servants that line the dining hall, waiting for her to be finished. “The veranda offers more… privacy. You can freely speak your mind there.” She stands and offers me her hand. I look at her delicate fingers, decorated with fine golden jewelry. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, would it? I take her hand and rise to stand next to her, she’s a few inches taller than I am. I don’t think I had noticed that before. 

“Sure, sounds good.” I say lamely, but I trail behind her, watching the hem of her dress dance across the floor as we make for the veranda. 

The night breeze feels cooler than it did maybe an hour ago. However, we are higher up in the palace versus down in the streets and canals of Vesuvia. I look out towards the sky, it’s clear and the stars are shining without a care. I can’t help the nervous tingle as I watch the Countess gesture for me to sit on a voluptuous looking chair. I sit, and I’m devoured by the cushions. I shift uncertainly until I find a comfortable position. 

Smirking, she hands me a crystal glass with another pale liquid inside. I sniff it’s contents, another floral scent, though I smell no alcohol. “Elderflower cordial,” she answers my unspoken question. “It’s one of my favorites.” I hum and take a drink, it has a very interesting flavor, but I’d rather have a mead or an ale any day. 

She settles next to me in a matching chair and together we look out over the garden maze. It feels uncomfortable sitting without conversation, but I can't seem to find any words. Luckily, the Countess seems to have an agenda in mind for asking me to the veranda, and she speaks plainly. 

"You seem upset at the idea of an execution." She glances at me and my grip on the glass tightens.

I flounder for a moment to find something to say, but I decide honesty is probably my best bet. "I'm not enthused that I'm playing a part in someone else's inevitable demise." 

She nods, in an almost sage-like manner. She doesn't comment.

"Why are you doing this?" My frustration is making me bold. "Why now, why the 3 year delay?" I look over at her, she seems serene as she watches me struggle within myself. "Sometimes death shouldn't be answered with more death. And celebrations shouldn't start with tragedy."

"I take it you weren't around for my husband's rule over Vesuvia?" It's more of a statement than a question.

"Does that really matter?" I try to dodge it all the same, too much to unpack if I have to explain my amnesia. "The people in town they… see you as a tyrant. These last 3 years after the Count's death have been problematic for the city. The people are hungry, the districts are flooding. All hope seemed lost during the Red Plague, the city hasn't recovered. The Count's death didn't affect the people as much as you think, not when they were knee deep in bodies to burn, and with their children's bellies swollen with hunger."

Her eyes are hard, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she doesn't break my eye contact. She stares down my accusations fearlessly. "Everything you say is exactly right."

My brows draw down in confusion. "Then why? What are you trying to accomplish?"

She sighs, looking out towards the garden again. "To finish the final chapter of my husband's rule." She peeks at me from the corner of her eye. "Vesuvia is in trouble, has been since before Count Lucio's death. I find myself in a unique position to restore order and help Vesuvia flourish. Order must be restored, and instead of ruling through fear, I intend to lead by example. But, I must first show the city that I am capable."

"So… you find the Count's murderer to tie up loose ends. Execute him to bring a sense of justice. Then throw a Masquerade… to do what? What does the Masquerade do for your plans?"

"The Masquerades always gave the people hope, even in the darkest times. To open my new rule with a Masquerade, would be to open my rule with hope and familiarity."

"Isn't that risky? To start a new rule by following the example of the old? Don't you think maybe you'll send the wrong message?"

"Giving the people of the city back the one thing my husband did right during his rule seems like a fitting tribute. Why should I discontinue the only good part of his legacy?"

She's got me there. I feel my own lips purse into a line.

"I have so many plans for Vesuvia." She sighs, and takes a drink of her cordial. "I could use more… competent people at my side." She looks back to me. "Perhaps you would consider helping me with my plans. Your honest and fearless take on the matters of the city is refreshing."

I vaguely remember Portia saying something similar. There seems to be more to all of this than I'm being told. I watch as the corners of her full lips tug up into an amused smile.

"Tell me Marion, if rumor has it that I'm such a tyrant, why agree to come to the palace? Why help me?"

"You asked me to?" I shrug.

"Come now, you could have easily refused me."

"Could I have? I mean, if you're a tyrant, who's to say my head wouldn't be on a pike the next day." It's my turn to smirk at her as she looks at me aghast. I sip at my own glass of cordial, giving her a moment to realize I wasn't serious. "You seemed desperate and alone. I own a magic shop, so I tend to see people when they're seeking something: answers, hope, escape. It's one of the finer parts of my profession, helping people. I wouldn't--couldn't turn you away." I blush slightly as I remember the other night. "At least, that's what I saw through my drunken stupor."

The Countess laughs, unrestricted. "You are quite intriguing." She regards me with humor in her eyes. "You are… very different from how I imagined you."

I laugh as well, "I'll drink to that." I down the remainder of my cordial. She finishes off hers as well.

"It seems we've both had a long day. I won't keep you any longer." She stands from her chair gracefully, while I struggle with getting the cushions to release me. "Thank you, Marion, for coming to the palace. It's a relief to know my dreams did not lead me astray." She reaches for a small silver bell that sits next to the decanter of cordial and rings it once. 

I manage to win the fight with the cushions just as Portia comes out onto the veranda, she eyes me with mirth in her eyes. "You rang, milady?"

"I did, please show Marion back to her quarters." The Countess gives me a small smile, I smile back and follow Portia into the palace halls.

Half running down the streets of Center City, I head for my shop. Portia dropped me off in the Town Square where she's getting ready to make the announcement about the Masquerade. It's been two days since I've checked on my cultures and I'm afraid they might have dried out and died. Luckily I have some time before the announcement so I grabbed at the opportunity. The faster I get there the longer I'll have to make proper observations, or just clean up the dead mold.

I scurry up the steps of the shop, hands extended to take off the protection spell. I smell the familiar scent of myrrh and I look around to see any signs of Muriel. I don't see his hulking form, but I see a small sachet leaning against the door. I roll my eyes. Mother Hen Muriel. I know even before I open the sachet that it's filled with herbs used for a protection spell. I pocket the sachet and take out my keys--which I don't need anymore because the door is open.

I stare stunned at a familiar black waist coat, then look up to see a familiar eye patch and auburn hair. The grey eye is wide as it stares down at me just as stunned. 

"Julian, what the f--" 

"Well, hello there. Fancy seeing you here." He interrupts, recovering from the shock faster than I can. He gives me a shit eating grin. I give him a look and his smile wavers, a blush blooming across his cheeks. "...I--ah was in the neighborhood, and erm--don't you look splendid! Marvelous even!"

"Julian…" I frown.

"In my defense, I did knock first." He wrings his hands in apprehension. 

"Well, at least there's that. But you know, proper etiquette is to wait for an answer or leave." I mumble. "How the hell do you keep getting in? My protection spell should be frying your eyeball in its socket, so what gives?"

He visibly gulps. "Protection spell…?" He clears his throat. "Ah, right, well…" Sighing he reaches in his pocket and hands me a key. "Here you are my dear. I've no use for it anymore. No more random entrances from me, that's… that's a promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, doctor." I take the key and compare it to my set. This one is to the backdoor. 

"Who gave you a key?" There's only two options since my aunt died about 5 years ago, and it wasn't me who gave him a spare… so it has to have been Asra.

Julian's back muscles tense, his whole body is coiled up, and he looks like he wants to bolt. "Y-you don't… erm--well…" He recovers quickly and gives me a coy smile. "Let's just say I had to make a few house calls. After hours."

I snort. "Thaaaaat is code for midnight nooky." I lift an eyebrow. "You and Asra huh? And suddenly, so many things make sense. "Didn't end well? Let me guess, Asra was distant, and you wanted more?"

The look on Julian's face says far more than any words he could ever say. I nod knowingly and pat his arm. "We run a magic shop together and I can't seem to keep him around either. It's like his nature to just… flee." I wiggle my fingers out towards the street. "Anyway, let's have it then." I turn back to him and hold my hand out in expectation.

"W-what?" It takes him a moment to follow my meaning. "Oh, oh no. You don't think I'm a  _ thief  _ do you? I'm a lot of things, but not that!"

"Your track record thus far is not on your side, Julian." 

"Not every interaction we've had so far is damning me is it?  _ You _ tackled  _ me _ down the stairs, and I know I hit you with the door, but I bought you a drink for that!" He pleads his case.

I laugh, "Yeah a shitty drink that you put on your tab. Have you paid your tab at the Raven yet?"

His blush says all I need to know. Suddenly he's indignant, and removing his overcoat and unbuttoning his waist coat. He walks past me out into the street and holds his arms out wide, palms up. "Search me. If you find anything of yours, I'll show myself to the stocks." His eye narrows at me in a challenge. "Come on, Marion, search me until you're satisfied."

I can feel the heat of embarrassment rise all the way from my toes up to my ears. Okay, two can play this game. "Sounds like a good idea, doctor." I walk down the steps towards him. His look of shock almost makes me laugh out loud, instead I bite my cheek to keep it in.

Again, he recovers quickly and gives me another coy grin. "Well then, don't be shy. I promise to be good."

"If I suddenly become shy now, it would ruin my reputation." I approach him and reach up to his collar. He's quite a few inches taller than I am, so I have to lean in close and stand on my tiptoes, but I manage to feel around his shoulder.

"You're really not afraid to get up close and personal, are you--" His voice is cut off as I snake my hands into his shirt on either side of his neck. His voice so close to my ear sends a shiver down my spine.

I take my time feeling along the smooth cool skin of his neck and shoulders. It takes everything in me not to run my fingers through his chest hair. Oh, but I want to. Instead I trail my fingers down his sides, feeling at his waist and suddenly he gasps and twists from my grasp. I can't help the wicked grin that spreads on my face.

"Ticklish, are we?" I ask innocently.

His face is aflame, "Er, ahem… Don't tell anyone." His smile returns. "This can be our little secret."

I grab his arm and pull him back to standing before me. "Hold still now, I'm not done."

He bites his lip and does as he's told, his lidded grey eye watching my every movement. I circle behind him, and he cranes his neck to follow me. "I had no idea you were so… hands-on."

"There's a lot about me you don't know." I murmur. I slide my fingers along the waistline of his pants.

He turns more towards me, "Aren't you afraid someone will see?"

"Didn't I tell you to hold still? Turn back around."

"I--ah, right." He complies. 

I smile to myself as I feel him tremble under my fingers. I am being a bit bold, but there's just something about this man that just… makes me want to go for it. I run my hands along his pockets, and I come across something hard. I reach inside.

"A-ah, that, uhm. Don't worry about that." He stammers. I pull the item out, and see it's a knife. I give him a sidelong glance, before putting it back. "But I  _ am  _ happy to see you. I can show you, if you'd like." 

"Careful doctor, or I'll think you're flirting with me." I look up at him to see the unabashed smirk on his face. I walk back to his front, and I can see the tension in his arms as he fights to keep them from reaching out. I give him a smoldering look, and he bites his lip again. "What are you really after, Julian?"

"So persistent." He mumbles. "And thorough." He adds, sighing. I cross my arms and wait. "Answers." He says finally. "But I didn't find any. Not any that I need." He looks down at the ground, he looks despondent.

I reach down and grab his overcoat. "Okay, I believe you." I hand it to him.

He looks a tad incredulous, "That's a terrible idea! You should never take anyone on their word, least of all me."

"...should I add liar to the track record then?" I ask innocently.

"No--I, that's not what I meant." His face deadpans as he watches me fight back a laugh. "You're making fun of me."

I gasp and dramatically grab at my heart. "I would never!"

He mumbles something I can't hear and swings his overcoat wide to clasp it around his broad shoulders. He makes a show of buttoning his waistcoat and smoothing it out. "I'm sure you're a busy woman, can't be easy working for the palace and all. I'll just get out of your way…"

"Yeah, that's a good idea, there's a lot of commotion today, guards will be milling about. Keep clear of Town Square."

His expression turns grim. "Why do you keep helping me escape, isn't that counter productive?"

I raise my eyebrows, "Trying to tell me how to run my investigation?"

His smile returns, "I would never dream of--" he cuts himself off, blood draining from his face, his eye trained on something behind me.

Oh shit, is that the guard? I follow his gaze and spot a familiar redheaded woman. Bloody hell, it's Portia. I tense, getting ready to try to keep her from yelling for the guards, but she doesn't move. Neither of them move, and I glance between them in confusion. They both ignore me as the shock sinks in.

"Ilya?" Portia says just above a whisper, almost as if she's afraid the man before her will disappear in a puff of smoke. I can see tears starting to glisten in her blue eyes.

One shaky step then two and she's launched herself into Julian's arms, I move to avoid a collision. Her voice cracks as she speaks again, "lIya? Is it really you?"

Julian catches the short woman easily, the height difference between them slightly comical, but his face is morose. He allows her to grab at his face, his own eye starting to glisten. "I-it's me." 

"You--you--" suddenly anger smears across her face, tears streaming down. She grabs his ears and I wince at the same time he does. "You bastard! What are you doing here?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Her eyes dash to me for a fraction of a second. 

I can't do anything but watch, enraptured. This is getting juicy.

Julian allows her to keep his ears, looking down almost like he's ashamed. "You've grown up strong, Pasha. I'm… sorry I wasn't there to see it."

Portia's face flushes even more with anger. "Ooooh, I'll show you sorry, you're unbelievable--" She glances my way again, and I think she finally registers who I am. "M-Marion!" She blanches and grabs Julian's collar, and she drags him away from me making a break for the alleyway. "I-I'll catch up with you later!" 

I laugh at the scene before me, "Better hurry, I hear there's supposed to be an announcement soon!" I call after them.

Definitely family. Oh this is just soooo juicy. The handmaiden to the Countess, related to the murderer of the Count? You couldn't ask for more drama. I can't wait to get Portia alone, I've so many questions.

And  _ then  _ I need to get ahold of Asra and ask about his relationship with Julian. I'm giddy with excitement, this must be how Saffron feels when they get fresh gossip. I can see how it can be a rush. 

I enter my shop, and light a few candles. I stop short when my eyes adjust to the light. Did… did Julian clean up the mess? I glance around wide eyed, all the blood from a few nights ago is gone, the items that fell off the shelves are picked up and replaced--in the wrong places, but who am I to complain?

I drop my satchel to the floor and head to the store room to check on my cultures. I open the back window for light and I stop short again. On the lids of my clear crystal dishes are folded pieces of paper set on end to stand upright. On each paper is one word scrawled in a now familiar script, I can see the painstaking care put into making the words as legible as possible.

_ Aspergillus. Aspergillus. Cladosporium. Penicillium. _

I gasp and remove the lid of the one labeled  _ Penicillium _ . Sure enough, there's the telltale sign of blue-green fuzz surrounded by a ring of white. My heart starts to race. I did it? I did it! I check the other molds to make comparisons. I grab my journal and frantically take notes, handwriting slightly shaky from my excitement. 

Setting my journal down when I'm done I grab the literature I was following to see what my next step is and I freeze. I set the papers down and grab the paper labeled  _ Penicillium _ . I stare at the script. He identified my mold. I glance at the dish again, I see the shine of water at the bottom. 

_ He identified, labeled and watered my specimens. _

My chest constricts and warms, it's a strange sensation, but not all unpleasant. 

Laughter outside the shop reminds me of my time constraints. I look out the window to confirm the time. I'll have to finish this up later. I get my experiment back in order and close the window. I reach down to grab my satchel and a drawing on the shop counter catches my eye. 

I bark out a laugh and grab the paper to get a better look. It's Julian's wanted poster, complete with dart holes, drawn on eyepatch and mustache, with new additions. Atop his head is a small pirate hat, slightly askew, below his neck he added shoulders, a striped low cut shirt and a robust amount of chest hair. 

Excited again, I set the paper down and grab the charcoal to add more to the drawing. I give his face a dusting of stubble, his ear a gaudy hooped earring. In the background I add some crewd waves and a poorly drawn sailboat. 

I examine my work and chuckle to myself. I can't stop smiling, my cheeks flaming in pain from the over use. I grab a pin and hang the drawing on the doorframe of the stairwell. It's a shame I took the doctor's key, now he won't be able to break in and see my additions. 

Grabbing my satchel again, I close up the shop and head towards the Town Square, smile never leaving my face. I guess Asra and Saffron are right after all. I am attracted to trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me! Adding actual chapter names, like I'm a professional or something. Pfft. 
> 
> I promise this isn't going to be just a re-telling of the story. I have my own plans for things, I just need to get through the prologue first. Stay tuned, more to come.


	4. Skitter-skitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start getting a little dark. Some very mild depictions of sickness, and child sickness. I'll try to be sure to give warnings before each chapter so you know what you're in for.

I watch Portia carefully as I follow her down the palace hallway. After the hustle and bustle of the Masquerade announcement I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to her about what happened at the shop. I think she can sense my eyes on her, as her ears have been pink since we left the Town Square, and she keeps at least two steps ahead of me, despite her shorter legs. I would bring it up, but now doesn’t seem like the right time. I have a feeling I’ll get to talk to her about it later. I’m enjoying making her uncomfortable though. If I’m correct, so many conversations with her suddenly make sense, but for now I’ll just let her sweat it out.

Music and laughter make their way down the hallway, and I can tell we’re getting closer to the parlor. I’m not exactly excited to be back at the parlor, my previous visit wasn’t exactly the safest, but I don’t intend on breaking out the tarot deck so theoretically I should be fine. Portia stops in front of the door and gives me a sheepish grin.

“Here we are,” she says reaching for the door. “I know they can’t wait to meet you.”

“Not to sound impolite,” I murmur, “but the feeling isn’t mutual. Politics make me uneasy, and these people are like _the_ people.”

The red head gives a genuine laugh, “You’ll do fine, just mind Valerius, he’s the one with the sharp tongue.” 

I nod and she opens the door with a flourish. My first impression of the room is hazy, it’s light is dull with incense and perfumes swirling about jarring my sinuses. People are sprawled about on large cushioned couches, chatting and laughing. The Countess is sitting at a large white pipe organ, her mocha fingers dancing across the keys with practiced ease. I marvel at the smooth sound the instrument makes. She looks up and smiles at me, ending her tune with a striking chord.

Portia announces me to the room, all eyes resting on my nervous form and it takes everything in me not to bolt back out the door. The courtiers rise, and I try and see if I can match names to faces as Portia had described them. 

“Oh, oh, Marion, you’re so cute!” A small mousy looking woman with large black robes and one startling blind white eye says. That looks like Procurator Volta.

“What a delightful surprise, we were all just talking about you!” A tall boney pale-- did I mention _pale--_ man says. He’s also dressed in black, possibly a judge’s robe? Praetor Vlastomil.

A person wearing a gaudy and loud red uniform hustles forward, gauntlets glinting in what little light is coming in through the window. “Sit! No, no, over here with me!” Their yellow eyes seem to glow in contrast to the red headdress that seems to give this person the illusion of height. Pontifex Vulgora.

I’m taken aback by the welcoming enthusiasm of the courtiers, I was expecting something more along the lines of snobbery. 

"So, I take it you were there during the announcement?" The Countess asks, "How did the people receive it?"

"Well--" I'm cut off by the courtiers and their excited prattling. My attempt dies on my tongue as my eyes meet vivid red orbs from the corner of the room. The words of the courtiers become nothing more than mumbles as the blood pulses through my ears. Panic freezes my muscles sending shivers down my spine.

The eyes stare me down, delight and malice making them shine. The figure stands stock still, unnerving but completely at ease with the strange position. They're dressed in all white, except long black rubber gloves. The green skin of their face looking sickly, being hidden mostly by a white surgical mask and a two horned turban upon their head. They steeple their long gangly fingers before themselves.

"Risky risky. So very unlike our thoughtful and meticulous Countess." They add to the conversation that is nothing but background noise to me. Their voice is soft but alarmingly cold. They never break their eye contact with me, not even to blink. I can feel a cold sweat forming at the base of my spine.

The conversation around us continues and I try to tear my eyes away from whom could only be Quaestor Valdemar, but a compulsion from deep within draws my eyes back. I panic even more as I try even harder, my breaths coming in ragged, my exhales shaky. 

Absolute satisfaction radiates off the Quaestor, I can see the surgical mask wrinkle as a smile develops underneath, slow and disturbing. 

Familiar voices call my name but I'm held still by the intense gaze. It's not until the Quaestor blinks, slow and languid that I feel control being wrenched back and I break eye contact with a visible lurch. The other courtiers all stare at me with bewildered expressions, except for the man with the long braid and wine glass, he looks annoyed and disgusted.

I try to slow my breathing, averting my eyes away from Valdemar not wanting to fall back into that trance. "I'm sorry, I don't know what--"

An exasperated sigh comes from the man, Valerius, I deduce by elimination, "My dear Countess, are you sure this is a good idea? It pains me to see you leave such an important task to such a…" he waves his wineglass at me letting the sentence hang. 

I can feel my irritation bubble up, my control over my emotions shot after the strange battle I just had. "Such a… what, Consul? Have the courage to speak plainly." I snap.

He clicks his tongue at me and swirls his wine. "Yes, I suppose I would have to speak plainly to someone such as yourself."

I sigh, my head is starting to hurt, I can’t seem to keep my hands from shaking. "Having the awareness to address your audience to maximize understanding is common sense.” I say, the words little more than a whisper. I open and close my hands to try and bring them back under my control. I see the Countess’s delicate hand move to her mouth to tastefully hide a smile. "So please Consul, speak plainly. You wouldn't want one 'such as myself' to not glean your true meaning."

Valerius' face turns bright pink, and he takes a moment to recover. "Ah, perhaps I may have miscommunicated my intentions. I simply meant to stress how our lovely Countess needn't have looked so far away for assistance with her plight. We indeed are as open books to her!" He waves his arms to emphasize his point, opening his reach too far and collides with a pitcher of wine that teeters precariously before tumbling down the front of my garments.

The Countess rises from the organs bench and gives the Consul a murderous glare.

"How clumsy of me." His tone flippant.

"Indeed." I sigh. I don’t move, afraid to do so.

"Enough Valerius, you've exhausted my patience. Everyone, out." The Countess says curtly placing a hand on my shoulder to stay me from leaving as well.

The courtiers file out of the room, swerving to avoid stepping in the red liquid. I can feel Valdemar's eyes on me, and I look down pointedly at my hands to avoid their gaze.

"Countess," they say, their voice causing me to shiver, "for what it's worth, I find your choice of assistance to be… stimulating." I swallow hard but dare not look up until I hear the door to the parlor click shut.

I give the Countess an exaggerated smile. "That went well, yeah?" Despite my effort of levity, my voice shakes and cracks. 

“That,” the Countess sneers at the door, “was a gross display of incompetence.”

I flinch involuntarily. I suppose I could have done better…

“On my part, not yours.” She clarifies, squeezing my shoulder in a friendly manner. “I shouldn’t have set up this meeting in the parlor after previous events. I believe I’m asking too much too quickly from you. The Courtiers are a handful even on a good day.” She looks down at me and smiles. “I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

I try to smile, but I can feel it fall just short of genuine. I can't seem to keep my hands from shaking. Adrenaline dump? Or just spooked out of my mind? 

"You must be freezing," the Countess says appalled. "Portia, will you escort Marion to the baths, and I'll pick her a new outfit." She looks down at me, warmth in her eyes. "Marion, any preferences? If you'll allow me, I'll shower you with gold and jewels, or anything you like. You're my esteemed guest, you need only to wish it, and it will be."

Despite my harried situation I can't help but blush slightly. "Oh, that's--that's kind of you my lady but… I'm a simple person, I don't need gold and jewels."

The Countess smiles, "Very well, but the offer is ever present if you change your mind. Portia, if you will, please?"

"Of course milady." 

The Countess makes her way to the door of the parlor and Portia is watching me, waiting. 

"The library..." I say, surprising myself. The Countess turns to me, red eyes wide in wonderment. "Ahem, the library…"

"Of course," she smiles at me. "Gold and jewels don't compare to the treasures of knowledge." She seems pleased. "Portia, see to it that our guest gets unrestricted access to the library."

"With pleasure milady." Portia responds.

The Countess leaves the parlor quietly closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door clicks shut Portia is immediately jumping into the chaise next to me like a cat, eyes wide with curiosity. "What. Was. That?! You look like you've seen a ghost--again! Is that another magic thing? What happened?"

My stomach rolls unpleasantly, I swallow hard, but I can feel the saliva refill my mouth quickly. I barely have time to grab the wine pitcher before I'm heaving into it.

"Oh my." Portia rubs my back as I shake from the exertion. 

"Ugh." Is the only sound I can make as I fight back the waves of nausea. Portia hands me a glass of water and a napkin. 

"Let's get you cleaned up, maybe you'll feel better." Portia soothes me. I nod and look at the pitcher, unsure of what to do. "Don't worry about that," she takes it gingerly. "Up you go, the baths aren't far."

At the baths I sit behind a fancy divider, giving me privacy to undress. I rub my head in my hands, it's pounding so hard my vision swims. Cold sweat runs down my back. The nausea has abated for now, but it makes me wonder if I'm getting ill. This feels more like the headaches I get when I see something familiar, possibly from my past. They used to happen often, especially when Asra would tell me stories from before I lost my memories. Eventually we just stopped trying to trigger my memories to return, it didn't seem worth the pain. 

This is similar but… different. Everything from the day Asra left has been nothing but crazy and painful. I believe I might be at my limit on what I can handle alone. I was doing fine, even with being attacked by a goat-man-thing, but it's different now. I didn't feel like I was in danger before. The dynamic has changed and I think the catalyst is Quaestor Valdemar. I need to stay away from them. It feels urgent, frighteningly imperative. 

I don't feel like it will be as simple as just avoiding them in the palace. They seemed far too excited to see me than what was warranted. That twisted smile beneath the surgical mask promised pain, agony and so much more than I even have words for.

No, I won't be able to just avoid them. I'm going to have to _run_ from them. They are going to pursue me, relentlessly. I don't know how I know that, but I do, to the depths of my soul, I do. 

My headache sears behind my eyes. I don't know what I'm going to do, but Asra might be able to help. Somehow, I need to get in touch with him. Damnit, why is he always gone? It's been 3 years, I'm an able bodied person again, if it hurts so much to be around me, then why cling so hard to me? Why insist on being a part of my life yet not? It's like he lingers between two worlds, and I'm just a lifeline to this one.

My eyes sting with unshed tears, I'm not sure if it's from my intense emotions or simply because my head feels like it's going to explode. 

First things first, I guess. It's bath time.

_I can't see much, never can, though that's mostly for the best. I can hear though, and the sounds echo in my head. Insects skittering-- never finding stillness, weak moans and coughing from adults and children alike, crying--hopeless crying. During the worst of it are the screams, though they are not happening now._

_I stand motionless in my cage, unable to move outside of what I'm told. My stillness disturbs me, though less and less everyday. I'm numb for the most part, the aches and pains of rigid muscles a far away memory to me now; long seen past when the real pain begins._

_Other cages are lined up next to me, all occupied, though never with the same tenant for long. I can't see them, I can't move my head without permission, but the moans and the coughs and the occasional violent audible vomit are always different. Sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes a child…_

They _will be here soon, the head of this whole operation, they're never gone for long. Not when there are subjects to do experiments on. There seems to be more and more subjects these days._ They _are always in a constant and disturbing state of glee. The others, the doctors, always look tired, haggard, but they keep coming back, day after endless day, ceaselessly searching for a cure. It's for them that I try to keep my resolve, one of the reasons I agreed to this in the first place. If it helps them find a cure…_

_Chains clink and clang, getting closer, alarming me to their presence. I can never see the chains, but I know they're there. My vision of the large chamber is blocked by a white medical coat. Through the slot of my leather blindfold I can make out their greenish skin, and just barely see the glint of sharp teeth exposed in a wide pleased smile._

_"Shall we begin, 017?"_

The rustling sound of insects, the weak coughs of the sick, distant moans and an occasional pained scream keep me company all night, haunting my dreams, stalking me during bouts of wakefulness. At some point I'd given up on sleeping and I sit at the small table in my guest room, looking out the window at the garden, waiting for sunrise. The pain in my head has reduced to a dull ache, but it's taken its toll on my body. I feel like the walking dead, even worse than a hangover. I feel like I've been fighting an invisible foe, unaware of the damage being dealt to myself. 

I'd given it a lot of thought while not being able to sleep; I need to visit Muriel. Besides Asra, he's my only link to the world of magic, and he has his ways of keeping in touch with my wayward business partner. I also need to get the hell out of this palace. The marble walls and floors feel suffocating and cold after yesterday. A trip into the forest to escape sounds like a dream come true. 

Once the sun has risen to allow for decent light I get dressed in the fine clothing Nadia has selected for me. It feels weird referring to her by name, but she left the note saying I could along with the clothes and a green amulet, so here it goes. I have to say, she is quite good at picking the correct sizes, and I'm delighted to see it's not overly gaudy. The garment is elegant yet practical, and very comfortable.

I'm debating in my head if I should stay for breakfast when there's a knock on my door. I don't even have time to walk across the room to open it before it bursts open and I'm met with seething chocolate eyes.

"You look like shit, honey. What the hell have you been getting into?" Saffron's deep voice growls at me and I feel myself blanch. 

Behind Saffron I see Portia poke her head around Saffron's large torso. "Sorry Marion, I hope this is okay. You just looked so upset last night, I thought you could use a friend."

"Don't apologize, Portia. You've done nothing wrong." Saffron glares at me. " _You_ on the other hand, have soooo much explaining to do."

"But first~" Portia chimes in pushing past Saffron with a wheeled cart of delicious smelling pastries and fresh cut fruit. "Breakfast!" 

"Oh it just makes me sick that room service is wasted on your undeserving ass…" Saffron mumbles as they follow the food cart to the table.

I'm finally broken out of my stupor to give a cocky grin. "Jealous?" 

"Damn right I am!" They sit at the table like they own the place and without any hesitation begin filling up a plateful of food. "Some of us in this world actually _enjoy_ the finer things in life, instead it's being given to the girl who'd rather frolic in the forest and come home with chicken feathers in her hair." 

I grin at them, even though they're pissed off at me, just having them around is easing some of the tension in my shoulders, I can feel warmth around me again. I turn to Portia and give a thankful smile. "You did do the right thing Portia, good thinking." 

Her delighted smile further warms up the room.

"Dig in you two, the food is exquisite." Saffron says between mouthfuls. I reach out and grab a strawberry.

"Portia, is it safe to talk here? Any chance we'll be overheard?" I ask.

She takes a moment to think. "Yes, it should be okay. There's no other guests, and all the servants are working on the morning routine. It should be clear for the moment, why?"

"I have a feeling once Saffron is done eating, some touchy subjects might come up." I sigh. She gives me a puzzled look, but nods her understanding anyway.

Suddenly hands are slammed onto the little table, making the china and silverware clink loudly. Portia and I flinch. "Julian Devorak? Girl, are you insane?!" 

Now it's Portia's turn to blanch.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I take a bite of my strawberry. 

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about." 

"Do I? I'm not so sure. And be gentle about what you say about the doctor, his sister is present." I move to take a grape. I can see Portia squirm out of the corner of my eye.

"I… I guess it was pretty obvious, huh?" The redhead says, flushing slightly.

"Oh you poor thing." The fire in Saffron's eyes leaves, replaced with pity. "But Marion," the fire is back just like that. "Don't change the subject. What were you two doing at the Raven the other night?" 

I sigh, "Am I not allowed to talk to people? I mean, the Countess asked me to find and investigate him, so it makes sense if I'm seen around him."

"Oh, so that's why the Countess asked for you? Wait, that doesn't make sense, you're a damn shopkeep, not the Consul. What gives?"

"She said she saw it in a dream. That it _had_ to be me. Who am I to turn down the _Countess_?"

"So, everything you said happened that night was legit?" They give me a look. I nod. "Barth said you and the doc were all doe eyed for each other, then you helped him avoid the guards during a raid. You don't even want to know what Linus said. If he broke into your shop and roughed you up, what changed?"

"Linus is an old fool, and you should know better than to take his word on anything." I pout and pick up a pastry.

"You didn't exactly let Marion finish the story." Portia cuts in. "The whole encounter ended on a pleasant note."

"Not to mention he broke in again and cleaned up the blood all over the floor. That was nice of him." They both stare at me. "What?"

"You never mentioned blood, Marion!" Saffron rumbles. 

"He broke in _again_?!" Portia squeaks.

I glance between the two of them. "It wasn't _my_ blood, it was his. Remember that large gaudy crystal Asra has?"

"That ugly orangish-brown monstrosity he keeps on the dresser?"

"The aragonite, yep. I bludgeoned his ass with it. Blood everywhere."

Saffron lets out raucous laughter. "That's my girl!"

"M-Marion!" Portia cries.

"Oh don't worry Portia, he's alright, you've seen him since then. Actually that was right after I caught him breaking into the shop again. When you walked up on us I was patting him down, making sure he didn't steal anything."

"Did he?" Portia growls.

"No, he didn't." She gives a relieved sigh. 

"At least he didn't burn that bridge, you seem to be the only one willing to give him a shot."

"I don't intend to condemn a man until I know for sure." I say softly.

"Thank you, Marion." She gives me a soft smile.

"What about the aiding and abetting, hmm? Does the Countess know you're actively letting him go?" Saffron counters.

"Ahem, she said and I quote: 'The search for Doctor Devorak is now in your hands. You may proceed as you see fit.'" I give my best Nadia impression.

Portia looks at me deadpan. "Your impression could use some work."

I wave her off, "Everyone's a critic."

Saffron shakes their head slowly. "Marion, you're treading a fine line. I don't like this, this is trouble."

Oh boy, this is the tame shit compared to the rest of it. Maybe I shouldn't mention the rest…

"That's not even the most exciting things that have happened." Portia says excitedly. "She gave milady a tarot reading and her eyes glowed, the air grew hot and something attacked her! She went flying out of her chair and everything! We think it's the goat-man that haunts the Count's old wing." 

Saffron levels her eyes to mine and I gulp. "I thought you can't do that high level of magic."

"I can't? I don't know how to explain what happened. It was like I was outside of my body, and my body was just doing it’s own thing." I shrug. "That part didn't seem harrowing until the goat-man, but I wasn't hurt and I haven't seen him since." Thinking about all of this is making my head hurt again.

"And _then_ \--" Portia is cut off by Saffron.

"There's _more_?!" 

I smirk through my pain, "When have you known me to half-ass my disasters?" 

"Something happened yesterday while meeting the courtiers. She threw up and hasn't been her usual self, until you got here." Portia turns to me, "You never did explain what happened."

I sigh, for what feels like the millionth time, and rub at my temples. "I'm not sure I can, this is all out of my scope."

I see Saffron's eyes darken. "Is Asra still away?"

"Yeah but--"

"That motherf--"

" _Saffron_!"

"He's never around when you need him!"

"I'm capable of handling a lot of things on my own!"

"Not magic!"

"Granted, but I have a plan!"

We both huff at each other, and I think Portia would like to melt into the wall. 

Saffron leans back in their chair, I go to sit on the bed, any desire for food gone. The room is silent, except of course for the ever present skittering of many insects and moans that seems to have embedded themselves into my psyche. 

Portia claps her hands to break the tension. "Okay, so what's the plan? Can I help?"

I hadn't planned on anyone helping me, other than Muriel. Is there something that Portia can help with?

"Honey, you're going to have your hands full keeping your brother from the gallows." Saffron chimes in. Portia flushes. 

"Yeah, that might be the best thing I can ask for now, until I get my situation under control. Do you have any way of communicating with him?"

She nods, "I can get messages to him through Maz, now that she knows he's here in Vesuvia."

I can't help the irrational spark of jealousy. Who's Maz? Who are they to Julian?

"Okay, if you can convince him to lay low for a day or so, I'll get back to the investigation soon." I smile at Portia. "Don't worry, I don't intend to let your brother hang. I'll do my best."

"So there _is_ something going on with you and Devorak?" Saffron growls. I really wish I had a better handle on controlling my blushing.

"I don't know, maybe? We like to flirt, but it's probably just harmless fun." I mumble. Portia looks like the cat who ate the canary. She knows something…

"Mhm," Saffron scowls, but seems to let it drop for now. "And this plan you spoke of?"

"I need to talk to my friend Muriel. Outside of Asra he's the next best bet for magic that I know of. Plus he keeps in contact with Asra when he's gone, so I can at least get a message to him." 

"Who's Muriel? Why is it the first I've heard of him?" The curiosity on their face is comical to me. Now I'm sure _I_ look like the cat who ate the canary. 

"It's not, you've met them before, you just don't remember." I try not to laugh.

"Honey, I never forget a face." They state matter of fact. I can't help the snort.

"Anyway, I was just getting ready to head to his place in the Dark Forest." 

Saffron wipes their mouth with a napkin, "Alright then, let's go."

I give them a look, "What you're coming with me?"

"Damn right I am. You look like you're about to collapse from exhaustion, you're not going anywhere alone."

"That bad, huh?" I move to glance in the mirror on the dressing table. Yikes, I look like I lost a drunken bar fight with the sunken eyes, and bruise on my forehead. Even my skin tone is a tad ashen. "What about the theatre? Don't you have a big play coming up?"

"They can survive without me for most of the day. Though I hope we get done by evening, I have to coach Raphael through his role, he's not quite where he needs to be." Saffron stands.

"Wait, if you're going to the Forest let me see if Hestion can pack up a lunch for you." Portia offers.

"Oh Portia!" Saffron swoons, "You beautiful child, bless you!" Portia laughs and hurries out the door. " _You_ ," they poke me playfully at my clavicle, "need to stay in the employ of the Countess. You're my ticket to the finer things I mentioned." 

I can't help but laugh at them.

We approach the Dark Forest by midmorning, every step through the golden wheat fields outside the city lightens the doom and gloom hovering over me. But every step towards the Forest brings a foreboding feeling. Saffron doesn't seem to notice and they walk beside me, seeming to enjoy the outing, picnic basket swinging on their arm.

We reach the border of the Forest and hesitate. I can feel a presence here, a familiar one. Flashbacks of white matted fur and red glowing eyes dance before my eyes and I swallow. 

"You sure you know where you're going in here?" Saffron asks timidly. "We only have enough food for one meal, and I _really_ don't want to get lost in a forest overnight."

"Yes, I'm sure. I visit Muriel often enough…" I pause, Saffron can feel my tension and they give me a look.

"What's wrong?"

"The goat-man is in the forest."

They look at the forest with unease. "You're sure? Will he hurt you?"

"I don’t know, when I was doing the reading it was like I was between realms. In that space is where I encountered him, but once I was back in my body he didn't seem to have enough power to stay manifested let alone hurt me."

"He did knock you out of your chair though, right?" Saffron looks uneasy.

"Yes, but it could have just been the force of me re-entering my body too. I don't know enough about this to fully understand what happened." I shrug, "My answers are in there."

"Alright then, there's nothing for it." Saffron takes a deep breath.

"There are protections in the woods." I offer. "We just need to make it to them. Muriel and Asra are pretty diligent about keeping them up to date."

"At least Asra is good for _something_." Saffron mumbles. I roll my eyes and we enter the forest together. 

We make it a fair way in before I feel the atmosphere change. I can tell the exact second that the goat-man notices our presence because the air suddenly turns hot.

"Do you feel that?" Saffron asks. 

I nod. "The goat-man, he's noticed us."

Saffron frowns, "What do we do?"

I glance around, I don't see anything out of the ordinary. "Keep going, I'll let you know when to run. We're getting close to the outer ring of protections." 

We walk for a few more minutes and then it's there. The hot breath on my neck, the sinister feeling making my hairs stand on end. 

_"Hello, little Thief, you're far from home."_

"What the f--"

"Run!" I shout, and I launch into a sprint, making sure Saffron isn't far behind. 

_"Run, run, run, little Thief, but I'm faster."_

"Only because you have freaky goat legs!" I snarl, I see the white spectre out of the corner of my eye.

"Don't taunt it!" Saffron yells incredulously. "Are you insane?"

"Shut up and run!" I yell back.

_"Make fun of me all you want, Thief, but time is running out."_

We run as fast as we can, while dodging trees, jumping roots and climbing over creek beds. When we pass the barrier it's like passing through a bubble, and the heat dissipates immediately. I fall to my hands and knees, muscles screaming at me, stitch in my side stinging.

"Son of a _bitch!"_ Saffron shouts, I glance up at them, relieved to see them inside the barrier. I follow their gaze to see the goat-man fairly manifested, snarling and pacing right outside the barrier. 

He glares at me red eyes aflame with hate. 

"I told you he was a goat-man-thing…"

Saffron looks over at me eyes wild with fright. "I really need to stop doubting you. Can he break through?"

"Maybe, with enough time. But the protections get stronger the farther we go in, so we should be safe."

_"Safe for now, Thief. You have to come out sometime."_

I sigh, "Cross that bridge when I come to it." I stand up and dust the leaves and moss from my clothes. "C'mon Saffron, this way."

Saffron follows me, but I can tell they are not happy. "What the _fuck_ have you gotten yourself into? That thing is _real_ , and he wants to tear you apart."

"I don't know Saffron. But I didn't do this to myself, none of this makes sense to me." I can hear the sounds of chickens getting closer and I'm relieved.

"...why does the goat-man-thing keep calling you a thief?"

"No clue."

We reach a small clearing, overshadowed by a very large tree, it's only as we get closer that we see the tree is askew, roots gnarled about, grasping at any part of the forest floor it can. Set within the roots is a wall of stone, built within the spaces between the roots, in the wall is a standard wooden door. This whole set up could be easily overlooked if you didn't know what you were looking for. 

I want to go around back and play with the chickens but I didn't bring anything for them, and I doubt Saffron would be patient enough to let me play. 

I knock on the door. The door opens just a crack and I can barely make out a green eye. "Good morning, Muriel." He opens the door enough so that we can see each other.

"What are you doing--" he stops short eyes wide looking at Saffron.

"Well hello~" Saffron swoons, pushing me aside. "My name's Saffron, I hear yours is Muriel. Lovely name, Muriel, it suits you--"

The door slams in our faces. 

"Marion! You scum! You've been holding out on me. You never said this Muriel was a tall hunk of man meat!" Saffron scolds me. I roll my eyes. "Rude to close the door in our faces though." 

"Muriel! Let me in, just me." I bang on the door. Saffron looks to protest but their face goes blank… and wait for it… there it is. Muriel is gone from their mind. "Saffron, do you mind waiting outside for a moment? My friend is a bit shy to new people."

"Oh, of course honey. I'll just be over here." Saffron walks to some logs waiting to be chopped and makes themselves comfortable. 

"Muriel," I whine into the door frame. "They're gone, just let me in."

The door opens just a crack again before a very large hand grabs me by my shirt and tugs me inside. His hut is warm, but wet as usual. Being a home under a tree in the dirt does that I guess. He has a hearty fire in his hearth, and I glance over to see Inana laying in her usual pile of furs.

"Why are you here, and why did you bring _them_?" He rumbles at me, I glance at his face and see the bright flash of crimson across his face. I can't help grinning at him.

"Oh c'mon Muriel, Saffron is good people. Just give them a chance. You just have to get past that first impression." 

He scowls. "But they're so… _flirty."_ He mumbles.

I shrug, "It's an honest first impression. It's not going to stop, you're they're type."

"But _every time_?"

I wink at him, "That's how you know it's honest. They are impressed and attracted to you and let you know it, _every single time_."

He sighs, "Why are you here? It's not safe in the woods right now."

"Don't I know it! Goat-man nearly had us." I watch him pale and he looks harried. "That's actually part of the reason I'm here. Seems you and Asra weren't far from the mark with your warnings. I need your help getting in touch with Asra, and any magical wisdom you can impart."

He nods, and goes about grabbing the supplies needed for my request. 

"Right, so I'm just going to let Saffron in then…" I wince when I hear a bowl drop. I chance a look behind me and swallow hard. If looks could kill… "Muriel, I can't leave Saffron out there. If I do they'll come storming in here eventually anyway. You're not the only mother hen I have." I make for the door. "Let's just get the flirting part over with, and I'm sure we can distract them with the matter at hand. If you give them a sachet it might be easier." I open the door and I can feel the green glare of my hermit friend on my back as I exit.

"Saffron!" They trot up to me. "Ok, so, he says he's going to help us get in touch with Asra. But here's the thing, like I said before he's really shy, and his help might be scared off if we're too _aggressive_ with him."

"Aggressive, honey, we're not here to beat him up!" 

"There's more than one way to be aggressive Saffron, just… remember what I said okay? And don't touch anything inside. And don't pet Inana."

"Inana?"

"His wolf."

"He has a _wolf_?"

"Ugh, just come on."

We enter the hut, and I see Muriel has set up a large bowl of water on the floor, with an intricate array of circle runes surrounding it. He's dropping packets of herbs at critical junctions in the outer circles as he draws them with the chalk. I tell Saffron not to step on the circle until it's ready.

"Ok, so, Saffron, Muriel. Muriel, Saffron."

"Well hello~" Saffron immediately swoons. I elbow them in the ribs and they glare at me. I give them a look, and they grab me and haul me over to a corner. "You could have warned me that I'd be meeting the love of my life!"

"This is what I meant by aggressive!"

"How am I supposed to hold back when you introduce me to this tall, dark, handsome _mountain_ of a man?!"

"I don't care _how_ you do it, just do it! Damn Saffron, learn some self control. We're not here for you anyway, so don't scare him off. I need his help!"

"Okay, fine!"

I turn back and give Muriel a thumbs up, he doesn't look reassured. "Anything I can do?" I ask, he shakes his head and continues his preparations. 

"Do you know about the goat-man?" Saffron asks Muriel. Muriel glances at them and nods.

"What the hell is it?"

Muriel gives me a pleading look. "We'll get our answers from Asra, Muriel. Thank you for your help."

He grunts, then checks over his circle. "Marion, sit by the bowl. Your friend can sit next to you." He sits at the edge of the outer circle. We do as we're told. "Watch the bowl, and call for Asra."

I lean over the bowl and I'm startled to find the starry blue sky. I watch to see if anything changes but it remains the same sky. "Asra?" I call into the bowl. "Asra, are you there? I need your help." I look up at Muriel, and his mouth is set in a scowl. He nods for me to continue. "Asra! Damn it, you asshat listen up! _Asra!_ "

Nothing.

"I can sense he's there." Muriel frowns. "We just don't have enough magic to reach him. If you were more adept maybe…" he shakes his head. "Or if we had something he's infused with his magic." 

Inana, who's been watching this whole scene with an uninterested air, suddenly whines and stands up. She walks over to me, I feel Saffron lean away, and paws at my satchel. 

"What are you after?" I open the satchel and let her stick her nose inside, she rummages around and comes back out with an emerald amulet. She places it in my palm. "This? It's just a gift." 

"Asra's magic is inside." Muriel rumbles, curiosity on his face. 

"In this? How do you know? I don't feel anything."

He looks at me deadpan. 

"Ah, right, okay. So, can I use it?"

"Drop it in the bowl."

It hits the bottom of the bowl with a loud clank. I watch the blue of the sky become slightly brighter. I give it another second before I resume my calling.

"Asra! Asra, you toad licking newt nudger!"

A moment later, at the edge of the water in the bowl I see a tuft of familiar white hair. He comes into view, looking as if leaning over a puddle. "Marion? Oh, wow, Marion!" He smiles wide with delight. "How are you doing this? Oh wait, are you with Muriel?" 

Muriel grunts.

"Amazing! You reached me all the way at my gate! You're using some powerful magic." He looks pleased.

I get a sour look on my face. "Not by my power. It's Muriel's, and I guess yours, some magic infused emerald amulet the Countess gave me."

That gives him a start. "The Countess?" He gives me a hard look. "You don't look well Marion, and what's this about Nadia?" He looks like he's trying to see behind me, maybe catch a glimpse of Muriel. 

I take a deep breath, how do I explain? Then I'm shoved to the side as Saffron takes over.

"Asra, she's gone and got herself in some shit! We need your help." 

"Hello, Saffron. She can't be in it that deep if you're by her side." Asra laughs at us, he seems in a good mood.

"I don't know, it seems pretty hefty to me, and it's all magic-like. I can't help her with that."

Now we've peaked his interest. "What could she possibly get into magic wise?"

"Ugh, hold on. It's best to start from the beginning." I shove Saffron back over so I can see him properly. "Nadia has tasked me to find someone for her, the man accused of murdering the late Count."

"Nadia is awake?" He asks, wide eyed. "And she wants you to find Ilya?"

So, Asra knows the name that Portia called Julian. Any suspicions I had about their relationship are now gone.

"Ilya? No she's supposed to find Julian Devorak! And find him she did, and she's all head over heels for him." Saffron growls. I blush.

Asra stares at me a moment. "Marion… stay away from _Julian_ Devorak, he's a hack doctor with a lot to learn. Nothing good will come of him."

" _Anyway_ ," I roll my eyes at Asra. "I found him, but we're getting ahead of ourselves." I give Saffron a pointed glare. “After you left, Nadia came knocking and requested me to come to the palace and give her a reading. I told her I didn’t have the ability, but she insisted it had to be me. So the next day I went to the palace--”

“Oh, sure _conveniently_ leave out the part where Devorak broke into your shop and roughed you up while you were drunk--”

“ _Saffron_ , don’t say it like that, that’s not how it went--”

“Ilya did _what?!_ ” Asra looks scathing mad.

“ _Asra_ , wait stop, just--just let me tell you what happened!” His face is red with anger, but he nods for me to continue. “Okay, so, yes, Julian broke into the shop, we had a scuffle--I attacked him. We all know drunk Marion is not a smart Marion, but no one was seriously hurt, he left on good terms.”

Asra’s scowl is dark. “What did he want?”

“Apparently just to talk to you. Look, I know you two have some sort of jilted lovers thing going on, but can we push past that for a moment? I’m in some serious need of magic assistance, and I haven’t gotten to the crazy shit yet.”

Asra blushes slightly as Saffron exclaims, “Jilted lovers? Whaa?” but he nods for me to continue.

“Right, so I went to the palace the next day, and I did a reading for Nadia… only… only it wasn’t me? Like it was me, but something… possessed me. It knocked me out of my body, and took control of the reading. I watched myself explain the cards.” I watch his expression and he doesn’t seem perturbed by this. I reluctantly continue. “And then, while I was in the in-between realm, I met this goat-man-thing that called me a thief and tried to attack my body--”

“ _What?_ ” Asra interrupts, face as white as a sheet. “Muriel? Muriel!”

Muriel stands and leans over us to look into the bowl.

“Muriel…? He’s manifested that much?” Muriel grunts his affirmation. Asra’s eyes bounce to me, they’re wide and alarmed. “Marion, you’re in danger. I’m coming home right now--”

“Let her finish Asra.” Saffron scolds. “She needs to tell you everything that’s happened.” Saffron turns to look at Muriel, “She’s safe here for the moment, yeah?”

Muriel nods.

“So… obviously, I’m ok. Just a tad bruised. Nadia seemed impressed by my “abilities” and she tasked me with finding Julian. Asra, she wants to _hang him_ . She wants to put on another Masquerade and she wants the _opening act to be Julian’s execution._ ” Asra’s mouth hangs open and he’s at a loss for words.

“Asra?” A voice calls from the bowl, off in the distance somewhere behind Asra. He doesn’t seem to hear it and he just stares at me in shock. The voice sounds so damn familiar but that’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened recently so I let it slide.

“And _then_ \-- I met the Courtiers yesterday.” I continue.

“Asra? Who are you talking to?” The voice sounds again.

“They are a myriad of messed-upness, but when I made eye contact with Quaestor Valdemar, it was like I was possessed again, only I didn’t leave my body, it was more like they were controlling me--”

“ _Valdemar._ ” The voice sneers and a head peeks around Asra’s shoulder. “That’s a terrible subject, who would want--” Aquamarine eyes pierce into my skull, my vision flashes white around the edges. All I can see is the exact mirror image of myself leaning over Asra’s shoulder. The image smiles beautifully at me, absolute delight radiating from her features. “Marion!” She calls, her excitement hitting me like a punch in the gut. “Marion, it’s so good to see--”

“ **_Miranda, no!_ ** ” Asra howls, and he pushes her out of the view of the bowl. He turns back to me, lavender eyes as wide as saucers. “Marion…? Marion?” His voice is urgent, his eyes bounce quickly back and forth as he watches me. “Marion, talk to me. What’s happening? Are you in pain? _Marion!_ ”

I can’t answer, I can’t breathe. My vision flashes white, like lightning strikes. Each strike, brighter, harsher, more painful. I can hear myself whimper, then cry in protest to the pain. I grab my head and hold it, trying to fight off the searing heat of pain and suddenly all I can hear is my own screaming.

Cool hands grasp my cheeks, and my vision clears just enough to make out Asra’s face distorted by a layer of water that coats his body, his face, his hands that touch me. I concentrate on his image, smaller than the real Asra, but still him nonetheless. He has projected his body to come out of the bowl to make contact with me. I have a vague recollection of reading about how much magic and concentration this particular trick needs in order to properly manifest.

“ _Shhh, Marion, shhh. Forget, just forget. I’m so sorry Marion. Forget._ ” He whispers to me, I can hear the others around me yell and argue, but it’s like trying to hear them through water, and I give up trying to understand what’s being said. I can feel myself drifting away into sleep.

“ _Forget, Marion, forget…_ ”

~Interlude~

“Asra, Asra! What’s wrong with Marion? What’s wrong with my sister!” Miranda asks, panic pulsing through her as she stares at Asra trying to get control over Marion. 

“Wait Marion has a _sister_?” Saffron yells in confusion. Now having to yell over Marion’s screaming.

“Yes she has a sister! It’s me! And I’m even the older twin!” Miranda replies to the stranger in the pool.

“ _Twins?_ Asra, what the fuck is going on!” Saffron bellows. “Marion! Marion, hang on honey!”

Asra then projects himself through the pool, and Miranda watches as he grabs her sister, whispers to her urgently and Marion’s screams die in her throat. Her sister goes limp, and Asra sets her down as gently as he can before returning to his gate. He slumps slightly, having used up a massive amount of magic to save Marion from imploding on herself. 

“Asra.” Muriel calls. Asra holds up a hand to show he’s fine, but he’s visibly winded and takes a moment to recover. 

A deep growl comes from the pool, Miranda leans over and sees a large dark skinned person, dressed in bright colors, with light blue curly hair lean over her sister, caressing her cheek. “If someone doesn’t start explaining what the _hell_ just happened…”

Asra sits up so he can see into the pool, he sighs in relief when he sees Marion asleep, face peaceful. “Marion… she doesn’t remember.”

“What?” Miranda chokes.

“I knew that!” Saffron cries.

“Saffron, just let me explain. Miranda doesn’t know the story. I hadn’t told her yet…” Asra sighs again, this time in exasperation. He turns to Miranda, her eyes glossy from unshed tears.

“What do you mean she doesn’t remember? She doesn’t remember _me_?” she squeaks out, eyes wide.

Asra shakes his head. “When… when I brought her back, it was as if she were a babe. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t walk, couldn’t feed herself. It took almost a year to get her motor skills and speech up to be on par with maybe a 6 year old.”

“What?” Saffron cries out in astonishment. “She never told me that. Only that she doesn’t remember anything from before her accident…” 

Asra smirks without mirth, glaring into the pool, “I kept trying to tell you, our situation is complicated. And this--” he gestures to Marion’s prone form. “This is what happens when she tries to remember, or if something triggers her memory. She can’t handle it. It’s like her brain tries to implode on itself. After… after a few times, I stopped trying. It was too dangerous.” He looks back to Miranda. “It was around that time that I realized she wasn’t you. She couldn’t do magic.” Asra’s face crumbles, and Miranda reaches for him, holds his face, shushes him softly. This part she knew, and she hugged him fiercely. Oh how much pain that must have caused him, to bring back the wrong twin? To have realized he gave up half his heart for the wrong person? 

“It’s okay, love.” She coos in his ear. “It was meant to be this way. Marion deserves a second chance, and I’m not gone.” She pulls his head from her chest. “See? I’m here in the Arcane realms, and I’m not going anywhere. I just wish I could have reached out to you sooner.”

He smiles up at her. Eyes glowing with love. “I know.” 

“Ahem.” Saffron clears their throat. “Okay, so now what? Marion passing out and you two having reunited or whatever, isn’t going to save this girl from the shit she’s in.” They move the bowl so they can be seen better. “Asra, she’s in some serious trouble. She’s trying to downplay it, as usual, but she’s scared out of her mind and she looks like _hell_. She can’t fight this off alone.”

Miranda smiles down at the image of Saffron in the pool. “I’m glad that Marion has people on her side willing to help her. Thank you, Saffron.”

Saffron’s guard leaks away and they smile. “Anytime, honey. Marion’s a good kid, a bit dense sometimes, but she doesn’t deserve what’s been thrown at her.”

Miranda’s expression darkens. “She was talking about Valdemar when I walked up. I didn’t catch everything that she said. If Valdemar is involved it can’t be good.”

Asra watches her for a moment before he replies, “She said she met Valdemar, she said something about being possessed, but it sounded more like a compulsion spell.”

“No! Asra!" She grabs at his loose shirt, panic in her eyes. "We can’t, we can’t let Valdemar get their creepy hands on her again. Valdemar is-- Valdemar, they--” Miranda gasps for breath, and falls to the side of the pool.

“Miranda!” Asra, Muriel and Saffron cry in unison. 

She grasps Asra’s arm while she fights for consciousness. “I’m sorry--I can’t stay… Find Julian, he was there.”

“Shhh,” he soothes her. “I’ll find him, I’ll protect Marion. Get some rest.” She smiles and fades into wisps, and is gone.

“Asra, what the f--” Saffron starts in.

“I know! I know. This is all really hard to explain.” Asra sighs.

“Will Miranda be ok?” Muriel asks.

“Yes, she will. She’s very weak right now. Marion’s reading awoke her from a long slumber in the Arcane realms. It may take some time before she’s back to herself. Muriel, you put wards around the shop, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are they stronger than the wards in the forest?”

“Yes, _he’s_ been working on destroying the forest wards, he doesn’t know about the ones in the city.”

“Okay, can you get her to the shop? That will be the safest place for her.” Asra sighs, his limbs are shaking from the magical exertion.

“What about you? You’re coming back right?” Saffron asks, usually their tone is more accusatory, but this time it’s more of a plea.

“Yes, I need time to rest though. Putting Marion under took a lot of strength from me. I’m about 4 days away. I’ll try to make it in 3. Do you both think you can keep her safe that long without me?”

Saffron doesn’t look confident, but Muriel nods. 

“I think I can counter the compulsion spell for the time being. I’ll need to refresh the spell every day. The wards will hold at the shop.” Muriel rumbles. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t fight against magic.” Saffron says.

“Just do what you always do, Saffron, keep her out of regular trouble.” Asra smiles.

“Oh you act like that’s so damn easy. The kid’s a trouble magnet. More than half the time it’s not anything she’s done in particular, it just _happens_ to her.” They rub their face in exhaustion. Asra smiles knowingly. “Okay, alright, business as usual, got it.” 

"And Saffron, you can't tell her _any_ of this." Asra gives Saffron a meaningful look. " _Any of it._ There's no telling what part of this will trigger her memory and send her spiraling."

Saffron blanches, but nods their head. They look down at Marion, in her magic induced sleep. "Poor kid." 

"I'll take you through the portal into town." Muriel offers. 

"Yeah… yeah. I don't want to run into goat-boy again on the way out." 

Asra frowns. "So, you've seen it too?"

Saffron nods, "He chased us through the woods, Marion knew he was nearby, but we risked it anyway. Just barely made it into the wards. He was _not_ happy. What is it?"

“If I’m right, it’s the disembodied spirit of Count Lucio.” Asra says.

“The Count?” Saffron’s eyes widen.

"Asra, we need to go." Muriel says, ever the pragmatist. 

Asra's tufts of white hair bounce as he nods in approval. "I'm counting on you two." 

Muriel leaves the view of the pool, but Saffron sidles closer. "Wait--Asra," they whisper and Asra leans closer to hear them. "Jilted lovers, huh?"

Asra clicks his tongue and dissolves the magic, but not before hearing the delighted chortle coming from the ex-sailor.

~Interlude End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To enhance the story telling, I've decided to write small interludes in the 3rd person for scenes that Marion isn't a part of. (Like above.) One of the downsides to 1st person, but eh. 
> 
> I'm also coming towards the end of my already pre-written scenes, so chapters might start coming out with more intervals of time in between. Sorry :3


	5. Starstrand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've jumped on the bandwagon of Julian speaking Croatian as his native language, you can thank google translate for any piss poor translations, I don't speak it, though I wish I knew a second language. If you're Croatian, or speak it, please know I mean no offense. (and also feel free to correct me, and I will change it) 
> 
> Some violence in this chapter, a little unnerving medical practicing. Slight allusions to drug dealing.

I should be feeling relieved. I should be feeling thankful. Thankful that I have people in my life willing to put themselves on the line to help me through this mess. A mess that, as usual, I've gotten myself into, on purpose or not. My muscles should be loosening, my mind should be calming. 

But it's not.

I have a white hot molten core of rage within me. A discontentment gnawing at my stomach, making my fingers shake. My head is pounding with every lurching heartbeat, said heart beating too harshly, too raggedly making my chest ache. 

I don't know what happened that made everything change at Muriel's hut, but all at once everyone stopped trusting me and started treating me like a fragile doll. One minute I'm an equal, explaining what happened, next minute I wake up at the shop, being told what to do, where to go and to let them take over. Let them decide what happens in my life. Like always. 

Betrayal, that's what this feeling is.

For once, something is happening to _me_ , _I'm_ the one having the adventure, not being left behind, and now it's being hijacked because no one trusts me. And the worst part is, I can't just hijack it back because all the things that are happening to me are _magic_ and the highest tier magic I can do by myself is the goddamned _locking circle_ on the shop door. So I'm _forced_ to put my fate into the hands of my friends, and they don't trust me to be able to help.

I groan, and put my head in my arms.

I'm an ungrateful wretch of a person, but I long to be able to take control of my own life. To not be left behind to tend the shop, to handle the _menial_ tasks. I long to be trusted to help with the important things.

Maybe, at one point in my life I was reliable. Maybe before I lost my memories. Or, maybe I was a terrible mess of a person who couldn't do a thing right and I deserve to not be trusted. Maybe Asra and Muriel, who knew me before my amnesia, suddenly remembered what a loser of a person I was and decided it was a bad idea to include me. Perhaps they are used to cleaning up my messes, and just know better. 

But Saffron didn't know me before. Saffron only has the last year or so of who I am to go by. And they agreed and followed along with Asra's plan. So I guess it's just me then, as I am now. Untrustworthy, and useless.

I sit up from my arms at the table, lazily reach for my stein before me and drain the last of the drink within. 

I'm a loser, and apparently, turning into an alcoholic. I frown and stare at the bottom of my glass. Somehow my anger has shifted to self loathing. I roll my eyes at myself and lean back in the booth, resting my head on the wood. I close my eyes.

This is ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous. Dramatic, even. I'm an emotional wreck, too many things happening too quickly. I don't have enough time to recover, to regain my bearings. Saffron was right, I needed to stay at the shop, get a night's rest at home, away from the palace… but it's lonely at the shop, too quiet. At least here at the Raven, the skittering and moans only bleed through when there's an unexpected lull in conversation. So instead of sleeping at home in my own bed, I've sweet talked Wynne into making up one of the rooms upstairs here at the Raven. My hope is that it will be loud and rowdy all night, and I won't have to wake up startled and shaking from a phantom scream. 

Besides, sleep is overrated. That's why we have coffee.

"Another drink, Investigator?" A smooth voice asks as the candlelight is blocked from my eyes. I open them and look up at a halo of deep red hair lit from behind by the candelabra. I'm struck speechless for a moment by the sight, taking longer than normal to recollect my thoughts. A roguish smile splits the visions face and I fight back the flush of embarrassment. 

"Interesting career choice, Julian." I try to recover, sitting up straight. "Fugitive doctor to barmaid?"

A pensive look fleets across his face as he sets two steins filled to the brim on the table. "Always good to have a backup plan, my dear. What good is a Plague Doctor without a plague, hm?" He glances down, cheeks flushing slightly, "N-not that no plague is a bad thing, in fact it's a very _good_ thing, that. Ahem. May I join you?" He gestures to the other side of the booth with long gloved fingers.

I nod and watch him shrug off his unbuttoned waistcoat tossing both coats to the back of the booth, leaving him in his billowy white undershirt half tucked in and untied. "You'd look good in the uniform." I say before my mind can catch up. That was definitely the drink talking.

He pauses halfway through sitting and gives me a strange look before laughing boisterously and making himself comfortable. He pushes a drink towards me, I eye it suspiciously. "And what of you Marion? Shopkeep to Palace Investigator? Don't worry," he gestures to the drink, "Barth and I learned our lesson last time." He gives a humored smile.

I return the smile and grab the stein bringing it to my lips, "At least mine was a promotion." 

"I'll drink to that!" He laughs and takes a generous drawl. "Mind if I inquire about the cryptic message sent by the Countess's handmaiden of all people?" 

I look up at him shocked, "'Of all people'? Julian she's your sister, it should be as natural as rain to get a message from her."

He pales slightly. "Ah. So, you know about Pasha then." He sighs. "I was hoping maybe you wouldn't--"

"Wouldn't what? Notice a family resemblance? Witness the familiarity between you? Please Julian, I'm a shopkeep not a moron." I roll my eyes."What did she say in her message? We hadn't discussed what she'd tell you, I let her take the lead on that." His face flushes dramatically red. What the hell did Portia say to him? "Who's Maz?" I add in, fighting back that tinge of jealousy from before.

He takes a smaller drink, trying to collect his thoughts. "You know about Maz too, hm? Pasha must really trust you." He avoids the first question and rubs his thumbs along the glass, making a slight squeaking sound. "She's my _baka_ , my--ah--grandmother, so to speak. One of many, really."

I snort and it takes me by surprise. I cover my mouth to hide my relieved smile. Grandma huh? Jealous over ol' Nanna. I mentally slap myself. He's quirking an eyebrow at me, though he's smiling with good humor.

"If at all possible, I'd rather we kept my family between just us? Can that be a thing?" He asks hopefully.

"The only one under investigation is you, Julian. Let's leave it as just you." 

His relieved smile and dramatic deflation of his shoulders almost makes me feel relieved with him. I really don't see why everyone is telling me to steer clear of this man. Asra called him a hack doctor with a lot to learn. Nothing good will come of him, he said. I just don't see it.

"What brings you to the self loathing corner of the Rowdy Raven then, Marion?" His question is well meaning, and probably meant to be mostly conversational but it hits home pretty hard. 

"I'm attempting the self loathing." I say to my glass rather than him. "Have any tips?"

"Hmm," he taps his chin in thought. "Have you gone through the list of all your failings?"

"Check." I say monotone.

"Lamented your inability to help the ones you love?"

"Check."

"Call yourself demeaning names like: lech, scoundrel, scalawag, or the like?"

"Does ungrateful wretch count?" He nods.

"Last but not least is beating yourself up over beating yourself up."

I sigh. "Check."

He nods sagely. "Sounds like a good and proper self loathing to me." He takes a drink.

I groan and thump my forehead onto the table, wincing at the extra sting from my already present bruise. "At least I'm doing _something_ right."

"I-if you don't mind me asking, has this self loathing got to do anything with me having to lay low for the day?"

"Indirectly, at best." I mumble. "Portia just wanted you to lay low while I took care of a few things outside of the city. We’re trying to piece things together but this _magic bullshit_ keeps getting in the way."

"Magic bullshit? Aren't you a magician? I mean, you own a magic shop, so I assumed…"

I look back down at my cup, I can feel the gloom reach my face. "No, I'm not a magician."

"Then what about that frying my eyeball thing back at the shop? Was that just for show, for bravado?"

That gets a quick smirk out of me before I fall back into gloom. "No, that was legit. Anyone can cast certain types of magics with circle runes, as long as you know how. It's the higher up stuff, the stuff that makes you a _magician_ , that's the stuff I just… can't do."

"So… _magic_ has been happening to you, but you can't… what, control it?" 

It's my turn to swallow hard. "I can't protect myself from it." I look up at him and his face is bewildered. "So far, it seems I've been attacked by two entities since this mess has all started, and possessed by another." His eye widens. "I haven't been physically hurt yet, but I'm not sure if physical pain is the goal. I have friends, Asra included, who are trying to help me, protect me, but they won't tell me what they're planning. I'm left to flounder, and follow orders, and be bewildered by things I don't understand, and no one will explain." I reach out and take a gulp from my drink. My eyes sting and rub them furiously. "So, here I am, in the self loathing booth, self loathing."

Lithe as a cat he slides his body around the edge of the table and next to me, left arm wrapping around my shoulders in a friendly embrace. "Ah, my dear, self loathing doesn't suit you." He gives me a bright genuine smile. "Maybe we can get some music going, or a game of darts? You need a release, something to take your mind off of your troubles. Just--" he looks down at me, grey eye earnest in his care. He lightly touches my cheekbone under my left eye with his thumb, the leather of his glove soft. "Don't cry."

I look up at him, watching the worried look on his face. How can everyone think this man is so bad? He makes me feel… calm. I blink, I notice that my headache has receded, the phantom sounds even more distant than even the loud clamor of the bar or the fuzziness of the drink could do by themselves. I feel my muscles finally release the tension of the day and I melt into his friendly half embrace. I don't know why, and I'm not even going to attempt to understand it. I'm just going to enjoy this reprieve while he allows me to have it.

I close my eyes and sigh, leaning my head on his shoulder. I immediately feel him tense, but he doesn't pull away. Actually, after a moment he moves closer to make our position a bit more comfortable. Slowly I breathe in his scent: alcohol, leather, coffee and just a hint of something wood, cedar perhaps? "Thank you Julian, for listening to my woes."

"Ah-yes of course. For you, my dear, anything." It comes out strained and I glance up to see him staring down at his glass, as crimson as a cooked lobster. I can't help but laugh, his eye darts to my face.

"For all of your incorrigible flirting, and innuendo, it's a chaste side hug that gets you blushing like a school boy?"

His blush creeps up to his ears, he taps at his now empty glass. "Ahem, well… I'd say not so much the action itself, but rather the charming company." He tries to recover with a crooked smile. I can feel heat rise to my cheeks as well. 

"Hmm, I'd have to agree. The company is quite charming." I give him a half lidded look. I watch his throat bob with interest. I see he watches me watch his throat in interest. I can't help but wonder what his neck would taste like. Salty? Perhaps a hint of soap,or maybe some random drink thrown on him again?

There’s a loud commotion over by the bar, we both look over with shocked expressions. There’s some men I’ve never seen before yelling at Barth, they’re wearing unfamiliar clothing, small straight swords hanging at their hips. There’s 4 of them, and they seem _very_ pissed off. 

“I’m not going to ask again,” I hear the leader say, “where’s the old fool? We’ll rip this place apart to find him, we know he’s here.”

Then there’s a thump underneath our table and I startle. Julian peeks under, and gives an amused smile. “Linus, you pervert, what are you doing?” He murmurs. 

Wild shushing comes from under the table and I peek down too. “Linus!” I harshly whisper, “They after you? What do they want?” Julian leans back up, using his broad shoulders to give us what cover he can from the strangers. 

“Oh Marion,” Linus laments as quietly as he can. “I’ve done it this time. I’ve really done it this time…”

“You old fool…” I say quietly, I look up and over Julian’s shoulder. “Julian, any idea who they are?” I whisper into his ear. He glances over his shoulder, his body is coiled up like a spring.

“They look like Milova spice dealers, but I don’t think it was the normal spices they’ve been dealing.” He murmurs. “He really is an old fool.” He sighs.

I feel Linus grab at my ankle, he hisses up at us, “If they catch me, they’ll gut me for sure!”

I hear Barth’s deep bass rumble through the bar. “Get out! We won’t have your kind here.” The bar goes silent in an instant. Everyone is staring up at the scene before them.

“You heard ‘im!” Netta’s squirrely voice chimes in. “Be gone with ya!” 

There’s the sound of metal being drawn from scabbard, and suddenly the bar is in chaos. Bottles and glasses are being chucked at the unwelcome guests, some managing to land with load thwacks. The largest of the group grabs Barth by the collar and wallops him across the temple. 

“Shit!” Julian curses and jumps up to join the fray of now many bodies wrestling together, limbs flying into faces and stomachs. I watch the scene for only a second more before I dash under the table, grabbing Julian’s overcoat from the other side of the booth. I throw it over Linus and grab his sinewy arm. 

“C’mon, follow me and stay close.” I mutter to him, I see the black coat bob his understanding. I watch the fray until I see an opening and I sneak the both of us out from under the table and we squat keeping low heading towards the back entrance of the pub. Linus, with his peg-leg and aged body manages to keep up with me. 

We make it to the back door, and I peer around before I push it open. 

“There! The back!” I hear that unfamiliar accent ring through the mess of cursing and yelling.

“Fuck,” I still push the door the rest of the way open and slide Linus out. I turn in time to see Netta jump in front of me, blocking a big brute’s path. She gives a challenging wail, standing her ground. 

“Move, bitch.” the man orders, but she stays where she is. Out of the corner of my eye, I barely make out the image of a blur round a table and as quick as lightning Netta’s new girlfriend is climbing up the side of the man like a damn spider monkey. She gives a banshee like shriek and chops at the man’s muscled neck. He drops to his knees with a surprised gurgle, eyes bulging, then falls limp onto the floor.

“Holy shit, Netta! She’s a keeper!” I laugh, she gives me a winning smile from over her shoulder. 

“Briaali is fierce.” She says. I nod profusely. 

“Get off me!” I hear Linus cry out and I turn just in time to be pulled from the door frame and thrown bodily out into the alley. My head hits the cobblestone with a loud crack and I see stars. One of the men has Linus by the throat and pressed up against the side of the Raven, another is walking from the doorway towards me. 

“Linus, Linus, Linus, what are you doing?” a deep voice asks, accent thick making his words come out meaty and distorted. “You know you can’t run from us.” 

Linus kicks at the wall, his peg-leg making high echoing clacks on the building. 

I groan and try to sit up, the man approaching me is coming faster than I can recover. I’m grabbed by my collar and also shoved against the wall, my bruises sing out their protest. 

“Getting your friends involved too Linus, ah, what a shame. But I’ll deal with her after I deal with you. Brock, don’t let her get loose.” His accomplice grunts his affirmation. 

Somewhere up above us I hear the cry of Malak, and then the curses of my captor as he swipes at his face. I feel the breeze of wings flapping, and almost a growl coming from the large black raven. I duck down to avoid getting hit from the flailing arms and duck around my captor to charge at Linus’s. I tackle the man, and he releases Linus, who falls to the ground limply. I hear his loud intake of breath and have only an instant to be relieved before I’m flipped onto my back, and pinned down. 

“Alright, if you’re going to be impatient, then you get to go first.” the man sneers above me, I can make out the glint of his gold teeth in the moonlight. He smells of burnt spice and dried meat.

The back door to the Raven bursts open, the light from within setting the alley into a golden haze.

“Marion!” I hear Julian shout, and bodies are spilling out into the alley, running every which way. 

The man above me fumbles at his belt, I catch a shine of gold and then searing pain lights up my left side. I give a surprised intake of breath. The man gives me an amused smile before he’s being picked up and thrown from me. There’s more yelling, cursing and lots of thunderous noise from boots on cobblestone. I ignore it. I stare up at what little of the night sky I can see past the tops of the stacked buildings that line the back alley. 

Pain, so much pain. White hot and spreading along my side, every breath I take makes it peak, and I try smaller breaths to ride out the pain. 

Muffled by the chaos around me, I hear Malak screeching again and the sound of bells. More boisterous cursing. I chance a look over towards the chaos and I see Linus crawling towards me. 

“M-Marion? Marion! C’mon little lady, it’s time to flee!” He gives me a once over and his old eyes widen, his mouth quivers. “Oh Marion--I’m so sorry, so so sorry.” I stare up at him through the pain, and he looks down at my side, looking like he is going to touch it, then thinks better of it. 

I hear the clamor of armored boots, many, many armored boots running down the main street, and I panic. I look up at Linus, eyes wide. “Run you old fool! Run!” I cry out, gasping afterward as the pain seizes my muscles. I squirm on the cobblestone and grab at my side, feeling the warm thick wetness of blood. Oh, this isn’t good.

“Doctor! Doctor!” Linus cries, frantically looking about, his voice cracking.

“Linus!” I hear Julian call, footsteps running towards us. “Marion!” He calls again, panic in his voice. He slides towards us on his knees, he looks over my prone body, gloved fingers twitching, awaiting action. He has blood cascading down the side of his head, hair wild on one side and matted on the other, his shirt is torn from one shoulder. “Marion--what happened? Where are you hurt?”

“No time Doc!” Netta cries from the door frame, she tosses him his waistcoat, he catches it on reflex. “It’s scram or hang!” Linus gets up and dashes off into the night, moving fast for a man of his age.

“Right,” Julian looks down at me with his one wild grey eye, the grey just a sliver around his blown wide pupil. “Up we go Marion,” he reaches to pick me up and he grazes across something on my side. It sends a cry of pain involuntarily out of my mouth. He pales and grabs a hold of the object, trying to keep it steady. I can feel it moving in my side, and he curses. “This is going to hurt.” He murmurs into my ear, and I feel his muscles tense and jerk as he pulls the object from me. I cry out again, my head swimming. As quickly as he can, he scoops me into his arms, his waist and overcoat draped over me and he dashes off into the dark alleys. 

I try to concentrate on breathing and not wailing in pain as we dash from alley to alley. I cling to Julian’s shoulders to try and keep myself from bouncing as harshly as he lopes as fast as he can, long legs taking us farther faster than mine could even dream of. I try to listen for any footfalls other than Julian’s but I can’t hear much outside of the blood pumping harshly in my ears. He slides us around a corner and he ducks low behind a crate, I push his overcoat up around his exposed shoulder to try and hide his white shirt from being seen. 

He waits, body poised and ready to spring back into a run. His eye darts around wildly, his breathing fast and steady. I can feel his heart racing beneath me. We wait, and wait. We don’t hear any pursuing footfalls. He allows himself to relax, to take a deep firm breath. He looks down at me with a worried eye. My vision swims, but I manage to give a ghost of a smile. Something on my face alarms him and he peeks around the corner again, making sure we’re safe before he slowly, gently sets me back onto the cobblestone. 

“Marion, we have to stop the bleeding.” He says, I barely manage a nod. “Please try to stay still and quiet, do the best you can.” He starts pulling his gloves off with his teeth, using the other hand to pull my shirt up to look at the wound. I try to keep his waist and overcoat out of the way, but they are slick with blood and I haven’t the strength to grasp them hard enough. I feel his ice cold fingers on my side and I try to hold back my wince. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. Julian, ow!” I curse, trying to keep my voice low, shaking violently with the effort. My body tries to escape his ministrations on it’s own. 

“I know _draga_ , shhh.” He winces himself as he pins me down by my shoulder with his left hand. His murderer’s brand stark and noticeable against his pale skin. My vision trains on it following the lines that look like a sword hilt buried into a heart. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain ebbs and I can breathe more freely without pain. My vision clears, and I open the eyes I didn’t realize I had screwed shut to look up at the man treating my wound. 

His eye is closed, brows furrowed with concentration, or pain? His mouth is set into a firm frown, and his shoulders are shaking. That’s when I notice it, my eyes widen. There, glowing at the base of his throat is a white glowing sigil. Circular with two points pointing up and down, and an intricate display of interlocking lines within. I know this symbol, I’ve seen this before. This is the symbol of the Arcana. I’d only ever seen it in maybe a handful of Asra’s magic tomes. 

He opens his eye slowly, looking down at my side under his right palm. His lips form a relieved smile. Looking me in the eye, the smile fades and his expression goes stoic. He leans back against the building and he watches me with a weary look. I can see the sweat on his forehead glisten in the moonlight. 

"Julian… what…?" I whisper in awe, I sit up slowly and look down at my side. The wound is closed, the blood stopped. I touch it tenderly, but no pain greets my touch. I look back at him as he breathes slowly, face now pinched in pain. Alarmed I watch a brilliant bruise blossom on his forehead then fade slowly, I see bruises form on his shoulders and fade away as well. Then his white billowy shirt is splattered with scarlet on his left side. "Julian!" I cry in alarm. 

He pulls me close and covers my mouth, eye darting and ears listening for movement. I breathe against his hand, and I can't help the wide eyed stare as I watch his lifeblood spread against the shirt and down onto the cobblestone.

"I'm fine," he murmurs in my ear. "I just need a moment. How are you feeling?" 

I remove his hand from my mouth and give him an incredulous look. "You are _not_ fine." I growl at him. "What did you do? How did you do it? How did you get _this_?" I gesture to his glowing sigil.

I reach down to put pressure on his wound and he stops me with a hard stern grab of my wrist. I look up startled. He gives me a fierce look, lips sneering.

"I _am_ fine. And don't tell me you can't recognize Asra's handiwork? A nice little curse as a parting gift, lovely right?"

Asra? _Asra_ did this? That… doesn't seem right. That isn't what I remember reading in the texts. "Julian…"

He lets go of my hand and leans his head back. "I can't say it hasn't been useful though." He coughs and wipes away some blood from his mouth. "How do you feel?" He asks again.

I blanch. He… he took my wound. He took my wound and now he's in pain, or worse. I snarl at him. "Julian, how dare you. What makes you think you have the right to endanger yourself for me?"

He barks a quiet laugh, mirth dancing in his eye. He grabs my hand and kisses it before I have the chance to snatch it away. "I'm in no danger, my dear. The curse heals me just as quickly as it healed you. See?" He slips the blood soaked shirt up his lithe side and I can almost watch the skin knit back together. It's disgusting and fascinating, and I can't look away. He grabs my face and makes me look into his eye. "Marion, how do you feel?"

"I… I…" I watch his face, taking in the sharp lines of his cheek bones, the thin bridge of his nose. The now deep purple hallowed look of his eyelid and under eye. "I'm not in pain." I say quietly. "Not physical pain." 

His smile is genuine, and lights up his face despite the pain he must still be in. "That's a start then." He looks around the corner and the crate we're hidden behind. "We need to get moving." He moves to stand, I shoot up to my feet to help him. He sways slightly, but he grins when he's settled. 

"Where have you been staying Julian? I'll get you there." I drape his overcoat onto his shoulders, wrap his waistcoat around my own and tuck myself under his left arm to help keep him steady. If we stick to the shadows we shouldn't be too visible. 

"I've been staying with my _baka_ since Pasha found me." We begin walking, and I let him lead while helping to keep him upright. His energy is flagging, it's evident in every boot dragging step. "It's not too far from here."

"Okay," I grip his waist more firmly, "lead the way."

He comes to a stop at a gate in front of a small residence. The building has seen better days, but it's foundation must be strong. In the yard and circling around back are a litany of herbs growing, some I recognize, others I don't. Off to the side is a little chicken coup, a couple of chickens seen inside roosting. 

I help him to the door and he gives me a sly grin. "In we go." He grabs my waist and hoists me to the window, I grab the sill and look behind me at him surprised he had the strength left to lift me, but more curious as to why the window. I decide to wait until we're in relative safety before I ask any questions.

I land inside the house with an ungraceful thump like the natural klutz I am, and I roll to the side when I see Julian spring through feet first, landing like a cat. I frown, if he can manage to be nimble even with them long ass legs then there's just no hope for me. I scoot back and lean up against a cabinet hear the hearth, I sigh wearily. "Why the window?" I ask lamely.

He plops his long limbs onto a kitchen chair and leans heavily on the table. "Because windows are fun? But--seriously, the door was probably locked and I don't have a key yet." 

"Breaking into even your own home, huh?" I ask with mirth.

He gives me a whimsical smile, "I have a reputation to keep."

I laugh at him, and get up slowly. I stoke the coals in the hearth and throw on a log to warm the place up. I'm cold from the blood loss, as I'm sure Julian is too. I turn to sit at the table next to him. I take in my surroundings as the fire glows brighter, it's a quaint little home, room enough for a small kitchen, eat in dining and what I suppose is a bedroom behind the large curtains. 

"So, is tonight a notch for or against me on my track record?" He asks grey eye meeting mine.

"For I'd suppose. You saved my life after all," I look down, "Thank you, Julian."

He fidgets with his hands, "I, er… you're welcome." I can almost _hear_ him blush.

"You must be exhausted," I turn and take his overcoat from his shoulders. Slowly I stand and take it to the coat rack in the corner, shedding his waistcoat from myself afterward. His coats are _filthy_ , caked in our blood and smeared with mud. "Where can I get some water?" 

"Way ahead of you," he walked over to a cupboard and grabbed a cauldron. He sways slightly as he brings it to the hearth to hang. He does so with a bit of difficulty. Quickly I spring over and grab the water bucket. "Marion…"

"Let me do it, you're still healing." 

"I'm _fine_ Marion, I've healed from worse than a stab wound." His face goes pensive. "What about you? Any tingling? Some people say they experience tingling after."

I stop to think, "No, no tingling."

"Good." He snatches the bucket and lopes out the backdoor in two strides. I glower after him. Ass. I locate a few candles and I have them lit by the time he returns, he fills the cauldron and I find a bowl and wash cloth.

We sit back at the table. "Can I see it, please?" He sighs and lifts his shirt. I reach out with the wash cloth and wipe away the grime around where the wound used to be. _Used to_. I look at his side in awe. Not even a scar. 

"See? Nothing this curse couldn't handle." His smirk is sour. "Though, I think that dagger may have been poisoned."

I look up at him in shock. "You think?" I look down at the hole in my shirt. I bring it up to my nose and sniff, hidden under the thick iron smell of my blood I can smell just a hint of floral. I pale, and my stomach sinks. "Starstrand." I murmur. "Can you heal from poisons?"

My shirt is ripped from my hands and over my head, I stop the assault with my arms and I stare at Julian with mixed emotions. "If that's starstrand this shirt needs to go." He says panic written all over his face. "You can still absorb the poison through your skin." Reluctantly I let it go, and watch as he tosses it into the fire. I hope Nadia won't be too upset at it's loss. 

I take the sash from around my waist and tie it around my torso, under my arms, doing my best to cover myself. At least Julian has the decency to be abashed and avoid looking at me. I sigh, and take the wash cloth to his head, doing my best to un-mat his hair. 

"You don't have to do that." He says softly, but he's making no moves to stop me.

"I know." I continue my ministrations. "You know, I never thanked you--"

"Yes you did, just a few minutes ago." He says, eye closed and looking like he's positively in heaven.

"No, I mean for cleaning up the shop."

"Oh, you're welcome." He hums.

His hair is a lost cause, so I move to wipe away his face and chest. He remains still, daring not to move lest I would stop. I can feel the tension in his muscles and I linger with the cloth around his lithe neck, remembering my thoughts from back at the Raven before this all began. Heat rises to my face, and suddenly I feel shy. I let my hand fall, and I drop the cloth into the bowl. A shiver runs up my spine and I lean away from him towards the fire, reaching my cold fingers to the flames. 

“Are… are you sure you’re going to be alright?” I say just above a whisper. I feel him startle next to me, as if waking, and he regards me with his grey eye. 

He chuckles, maybe more from nervousness or habit than out of humor. “You really don't need to worry, my dear. Not that I, uh, don't appreciate the sentiment.” He gives me his trademark grin and leans towards the fire as well, the light flickering off of his auburn hair. 

I swallow a hard lump in my throat. “You think Barth and Linus and Netta are okay?”

His smile is kind as he nods, “I saw them flee, though Barth might have a nasty shiner in the morning.” He clicks his tongue in disgust. “I don’t know what that old fool got himself into, but he brought a world of trouble messing with spice dealers.” He gives me a harried look. “You might want to lay low for a few days, if the dealers got a good look at your face who knows what they’ll do if they see you again.”

I look over at him in surprise. Dread fills my stomach like a lead brick. Fuck. Just what I need. I don’t know what kind of emotions must be playing across my face, but he reacts to them swiftly, grabbing my face and shushing me softly. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it now, you’re safe for the moment. Tomorrow… tomorrow, we’ll get you back to the palace. You should be safe from the Milovan’s there.”

I feel the hysteria rising in my chest and I laugh a haunting and cynical sound. “I think… I’d rather take my chances with the Milovan’s. At least they’re solid and easy to understand.” I feel his fingers tighten around my face ever so slightly before he lets his hands fall to his lap. “Would be easier if I spoke Milovan though.” I murmur, turning back to the fire. 

He sighs, “I know some of the language, though I wouldn’t say I’m as fluent as I am in others. I could teach you a few phrases, but I don’t see how it would help.”

My mouth twists into a mean spirited smirk. “It won’t. I just thought it would take some of the surprise out of the way they’ll kill me if I could understand when it's ordered.” He pales as white as his shirt and I stand. “Thank you Julian, you saved my life, and I’ll never forget that. Maybe with some luck, I can save yours in return.” Boldly I reach out and move a stray curl from his forehead. He stares up at me with his wide grey eye. “I have to go.” 

"Wait!" He stands quickly and grabs my shoulders. "I-it's not safe yet. The guards will be patrolling the area for some time after a raid."

"Julian, they're not after me…" 

"Ah, right." He bites his lip in thought, his eye bouncing between both of mine, trying to read my thoughts, or maybe trying to find the courage to express his. "Stay here tonight, you can have the bed. I promise no funny business. I'll be an absolute gentleman."

I blush but smirk all the same. "And what if I want funny business? What then, hmm?" I put a hand over his on my shoulder, his skin cool but not unpleasantly cold. 

He hides his blush with a coy smirk. "Not that I would be against some funny business, but given our current exhausted state, I would deem it unwise. We should rest, doctor's orders." He gives me a wink that doesn't quite work with only one eye and it makes me laugh.

"Ah," he says like a starving man wafting the smell of food to his nose. "That's a lovely sound." He pulls me to his side and lightly kisses the top of my head. I can feel heat travel from my brow all the way down to my toes. "Would you do me the honor of your company tonight so I may elicit more of that melodious sound?"

"When you say it like that, how could anyone refuse?" I breathe out, entranced by him.

Again, he gives me that coy mischievous smirk. I can't help but follow the lines of his face, the curve of his expressive brow, the high bridge of his nose down to the fullness of his lips. My gods, this man really is beautiful. I reach up and trace my pointer finger from the strap of his eye patch down to his jaw then following the thick muscle of his neck to his clavicle. He visibly shivers, and his pupil blows wide open drinking the sight of me in.

"My dear, you're making it hard to be a gentleman when you look at me like that." He grabs one of my hands and brings it to his lips. I watch the movement intensely, he watches me watch him. 

It's at this point that I realize that I'm smitten. That I would give myself freely to this man if he were to truly ask for it, not just hint and flirt. The realization is like a splash of cold water in my face, and I gasp softly. But, would he? Would he truly ask for it? He's an incorrigible flirt, and I can feel the husky darkness within him, one that promises intensity, sultrous ecstasy, reckless abandon. However, I also sense pain, hesitation, reluctant restraint. 

We're both stirred from our thoughts by a raucous flapping of wings and a jarring squawk. We turn to look at the window where Malak is perched imperiously, staring at us with his beady black eyes. I feel Julian's breath on my hand as he chuckles darkly. "Mood killer…" he barely rumbles through his chest and lowers my hand from his face, but not letting it go.

"Alright, asshole." Malak cries, spreading his wings wide. I can't help but laugh.

"Malak!" Julian chastises. "Where did you hear such awful language?" This has me doubling over trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. I wordlessly point to myself, unable to control the guffaws of my belly laugh. " _You_? It was you who tainted my bird with filth?" He sounds indignant, but I can see the mirth in his eye.

Malak lets out his version of a laugh too, then flies to the table and picks at the table cloth.

"Is he really your bird?" I ask, dabbing at a mirthful tear.

Julian smirks at me then looks down at the fluffed up puff of black feathers. "Not so much as I'm his human, I think. He's been following me around for some time now. But he's made himself quite useful." He reaches out to poke at the Raven and Malak snaps at his finger. He frowns.

"That he has. He came to my rescue during the scuffle. Thank you, Malak." I reach towards him and he lowers his head for a scritch, letting out a low purr. 

I can feel the disdain oozing from Julian as Malak allows me to touch him. "Bird follows me around relentlessly for 3 years, never lets me touch him. You know him for 3 days and he's repeating after you and purring like a cat."

I look over at him and give him an unabashed smile. "Jealous?"

"Yes." He mumbles and allows me to have another laugh before tugging on the hand he still has a hold of. "Let's get you to bed." 

I playfully grab Malak's beak and give it a quick kiss. "Goodnight, Malak." I walk towards the curtain where I'm sure the bed has to be behind, but I'm met with resistance from the hand connected with Julian. I look back to see him glaring daggers at Malak, and Malak looking absolutely pleased with himself.

"Lucky bastard." I hear Julian grumble and he follows me to the curtain to hold it open for me. I give him a smirk and duck inside. 

The bedroom is small but quaint. Just enough room for a small twin bed, in the darkness I can make out a stool with a candle, a small dresser. I see a door as well, maybe leading off to the washroom. He makes quick work of lighting the candle, and he waves to the bed with a flourish. "It's small, but it's comfortable. Perfect place to sleep off a harried day." 

I eye him, "Where will you sleep?"

He smiles, "I have a place, don't worry. Unless…” His expression changes with a dark allure. He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Unless you’d like to share the bed?”

“Well…” I make a show of thinking, tapping at my lips with a finger. “You did say you’d be a gentleman, so I’ll hold you to that.”

“Oh Marion, you can hold me any way you want,” he croons. I laugh and swat him away playfully. He gives me a triumphant and dark grin. “Your laugh,” he says lowly. “It’s like music to my ears.” He reaches forward and snakes his cool hand to cup along the nape of my neck. I shiver but I don’t dare pull away. I’m not sure who moves first, but our faces slowly inch together and our lips meet in a light tentative kiss. I have to tilt my head slightly to maneuver around his hooked nose, but with a bit of trial and error I find a position that works for both of us. We press into the kiss harder, becoming more urgent. His sultry lips work at mine with insistence and I follow his lead. We break apart for air, both of us out of breath and shocked with our boldness.

“I… I thought you said no funny business?” I laugh soundlessly.

“Hmm,” his chest rumbles, “I did, didn’t I?” He doesn’t sound remorseful. He leans in for another kiss, but he keeps this one short, and I find myself leaning into him as he pulls away. “Doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders.” He sighs. “I could make something real with you…” I blush as he looks at me with a strange seriousness. “If only there was time. But, alas, we’re both barely on our feet. To bed with us, sleep is beckoning us with her siren’s song.” 

We both ready for bed, he lends me a shirt so I won’t have to sleep with a knot digging into my back all night, and he launches himself onto the bed, making a scene about fluffing the pillow and smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets. I watch until he’s done and he pats the space next to him for me to join. I lower my body into the space provided and we face each other, lying on our sides. 

“I warn you, my dear, I won’t last long I’m afraid. I know when I’m beat.” He yawns dramatically. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s my own body. The curse takes a lot out of me, and when it comes to healing, it takes as long as it takes. Stab me in the back, and I can walk it off… but healing…” He yawns again.

I furrow my brows in thought. “You said Asra did this to you?”

His eye narrows. “I’ve no doubt.”

I watch him for a second before I reply. “I do, doubt.” I say quietly. He regards me with a hard eye at first but he softens a moment later. 

“Why do you doubt?” He asks.

“Because it’s too powerful of a curse, of a spell, for only Asra to do. It’s one thing to heal; magic alone can do that but to have a non-magic user heal? And to top it off, to not only be able to heal himself but to heal others? Taking on their wounds? That’s a very complicated spell. Asra isn’t that strong.” I shake my head. “It’s not that I would put it past him to be petty towards an ex-lover. It just… seems out of his realm of capabilities.”

He reaches over and tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “For a non-magician you know a thing or two about magic.” He muses.

I shrug. “I like to read, and I get bored late at night. The only books Asra keeps are magic tomes and scrolls.”

“Hmm,” he says his eyelid beginning to droop. “And what about your Prakran medical journals?”

“Yes, I saw you went snooping through my things.” I watch him smile even as his eye closes.

“Couldn’t ‘elp it. Look’d so interesffffing.” He mumbles. I watch him fall into the realm of sleep. I kiss his cheek and lean up to blow out the candle. 

“Goodnight, Julian.”

_It's cold, and damp as usual. I don't remember the last time I felt warm. The cold is a blessing though, it keeps my extremities numb so I don't feel much as I'm poked and prodded. I've been laid out on another table, strapped down in place though I don't know why they bother, it's not like I can struggle. I stare up at the stone ceiling, what little of it I can see through the slots of the leather binding that is ever present across my eyes. I don't even remember what it's like to have a full scope of vision anymore, and I can only see color, other than red, in my dreams. My vision now is just a dull black and white, spots of red, mainly from the creepy masks, or the beetles that skitter around the chamber._

_I wait patiently, though it's not like I have a choice, for the doctor of the day to approach, examine me, take notes, then poke and prod. Sometimes they unbind me and move my limbs around, and sometimes, just sometimes I get a glimpse of them. Though there's not much to see, not much than_ can _be seen past the protective masks they wear, but sometimes I can see a small detail. A freckle on a neck, a bulging vein, an earring. I see just enough to sate my curiosity, and to keep me looking for more._

_I can hear a clamor of noise from across the chamber, low murmurs that I can't make out. I feel_ their _presence come into the chamber, I can hear their chains clink as they walk towards me. It doesn't matter how often I'm around them, they make my insides squirm when they're near. I wonder if pain is on the agenda today, it's been a while since they've cut into me._

_"Doctor 069, meet Subject 017." Their cold creepy voice says._

_"Erm, hello Subject 017." The unfamiliar voice says._

_They click their tongue in impatience. "Don't waste your breath, 069, it won't respond. It will, however, obey commands. 017, raise your left pointer finger."_

_I obey, without my consent, but this is normal now._

_"That's… creepy." 069 comments._

_"Emotions are irrelevant, 069. It's convenient for it to obey, and so it obeys. It gave itself to science, and science is what we do with it." They begin to walk away. "Your requested time with it starts now, use your time wisely." I hear them retreat, a heavy door close._

_It's silent in the chamber for a moment, and I wait for hands to start touching me. Instead I hear a bag opening, a few bottles clink, a rustle of paper, then scraping, as if 069 is pulling up a stool._

_"So...ah, I'm not sure how this goes with the other doctors, but uhm… I'm here to run a few tests on you…" the doctor says, his voice sounds very unsure. This is new, usually they don't talk, unless it's to themselves, or an assistant._

_"Do you know what a leech is?" Another clink of a bottle, then the pull of a cork. "I specialize in Bloodletting, particularly with leeches. You see… I've--erm--been following the Red Plague for some years now. I've used leeches on many of my patients, but--ah--as is with the normal progression of the plague, my patients would die before I could get results."_

_He seems to just be talking for the sake of talking. This is new too, but not unwelcome._

_"Which brings me to why I requested time with you… 017? That just seems wrong to call a person by a number. Do you have a name? ...ah right, you don't talk. A-anyway, you see, you're special, seeing as how you've contracted the plague some weeks back and it hasn't killed you… a-and assuming you won't die anytime soon, it gives me the opportunity to test a few theories I have…"_

_There's more rustling of papers, a groan of wood from a shift of weight._

_"I'd like to start with an average leech, Hirudo Medicinalis to be exact. Though, I have procured a more powerful leech through… ah, a less than legal transaction. Now, I'm trusting you to keep that secret for me." He laughs at his own joke, and I would be lying if I said I didn't find it just a tad morbidly humorous. He cuts off his laugh with an uneasy cough. "Feels weird to laugh by myself…"_

_The chamber is quiet for a long period of time, I almost start to think he might have left when I feel a light pressure on my upper right arm. "Hmm, I know you can obey orders, so that means you can hear me. I wonder if you can give me responses, answers, like yes and no." I feel a tapping on my arm, and I realize he's tapping me with his fingers in thought. "Okay, so here's a thought. I'm going to ask you a question, and you tap your right pointer finger once for yes, and two for no."_

_He pauses for dramatic effect, I guess._

_"Are you strapped to a medical table right now?"_

_I wait for my finger to respond, it doesn't. I wonder why it's not working. Maybe it's because it's not a direct command._

_"Hmm, can you hear me? 017, wiggle your right foot." My foot responds immediately. "Okay, so you can hear me… let's try something else. 017, are you an elephant?"_

_If I could snort, I would. I wait for my body to respond and it doesn't, again. I haven't tried this in a long time, but I reach out with my consciousness and will my finger to tap twice. To my surprise, it does._

_"Whoa, okay, that was something. Could be a fluke. Let's try… 017 are we on a pirate ship?"_

_What is with these questions… I tap twice._

_"Okay, two in the no column. Let's try a yes… 017 can you hear me?"_

_...is this guy dumb? I tap once._

_"Ah-ha!" He hoots with triumph. "I can work with this." Suddenly my vision of the ceiling is blocked by a white beaked mask, the red of the glass lenses stark in my black and white vision. But… there's something else… a halo of muddy red around the white of the mask. It cascades around the edges of the mask in wavy curls. Oh, it's hair. Auburn hair…_

I'm falling, and I flail uselessly, heart in my throat as I collide with the floor with a crash. My eyes dash about in the dark room, legs tangled in the sheet. Above me in the bed, there's movement, limbs restlessly moving about. I peer up in confusion, trying to regain my surroundings. Where am I? 

"N-no, please--" I hear a strangled voice coming from the bed. I try to extricate my legs from the sheets. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--" I don't have time to move before there's half of a body pinning me to the floor. I grunt at the sudden weight, and Julian groans letting his head hit the floor.

Ah, that's right, I'm at Julian's house. The night before floods back to me. I watch as Julian cracks open his working eye and he stares at me in bewilderment. 

"Er, good morning? Is it morning? Why are we on the floor?" He asks in quick succession, face turning beet red. 

I shake my head and smile at him. "Not morning yet, I don't think. You seemed to be having a nightmare and I was tossed from the bed." I can literally see the blood drain from his face, even in his upside-down position. I laugh at him. 

"I-I'm so sorry Marion--" he tries to sit up and I have to help push him to get him right side up. We have to rip the sheets from the bed to free our legs.

"No harm done Julian." He sits back on the bed with a huff, shoulders and hands shaking. "Do you want to talk about it?" I try to straighten the sheets and give up quickly, not caring enough.

"Talk about…?" He seems to be trying to avoid the topic. 

I sit next to him and lean on his shoulder. "The nightmare, dummy. Your hands are shaking like a leaf."

He looks at me aghast. "Wha, me? Shaking? Nonsense, Marion. I'm a doctor, my hands are as sure as death and taxes." He gives me that roguish grin. I look at him deadpan, and he clears his throat awkwardly. 

I grab his shaking hands and pull them to my lap. "Fine, avoid the question, but I'm here to listen if you want. I'm no stranger to nightmares, at least not here recently. I couldn't sleep a wink the night before, I kept dreaming of sickness, of people moaning in pain, insects moving about, occasional screaming. Totally unnerving." I smile at him, but he stares at me white as a ghost. 

"Yes, well, it’s nothing. It wasn’t real… at least I’m pretty sure it wasn’t real.” He looks a bit embarrassed. “I have no reason to be upset.” He squeezes my hands. “What about you? No nightmares?”

I shake my head slowly, watching him. His muscles are tight as a coil, his hands still shaking. I sidle closer to him, peering at him, willing him to come clean. “Me? I slept like the dead, it was refreshing.” I watch him for a moment longer, his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and you can literally see the the fight leave him.

He sighs, “I can’t hide anything from those piercing eyes, hm?” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up at an odd angle. “Don’t know why I bothered in the first place.”

I laugh, “Even with the small amount of time you’ve known me, it should be obvious that I don’t give up easily.” I poke his side playfully, which gets a small smile, but it doesn’t stay long on his face. 

“...Do you believe in forgiveness?” He asks softly. Now it’s my turn to have the tense muscles. I watch his face for any tells, any other information outside of what he just asked. My brows draw together in thought.

“I guess it depends on what you need forgiveness from.” I answer honestly. What the hell did he dream about? He’s brought his hands back to his lap, and he wrings them absentmindedly. 

“Do you think… that even truly heinous things can be forgiven?” He watches me cautiously out of the corner of his only working eye. 

I frown. I hadn’t really thought about it like that before. “I suppose it would have to be up to the person to whom you committed the crime against.” I look up at the ceiling, there’s a small amount of light coming from past the curtain, giving the room a silverish hue. “But no one is irredeemable. No matter what they’ve done. Regardless of if they receive forgiveness or not.” I turn more towards him, leaning down to see his face better. “Is this about the Count?”

He gives me a sardonic smile. “I wish I could give an easy answer.”

I blink at him. “Well, did you kill him or not?” He stares at me shocked at my bluntness. 

“...A lot happened three years ago, Marion…” 

I shrug, “A lot of things happen all the time, Julian. I’m not immune to doing stupid things on impulse. Or of making plans that fall through, or blow up in my face. I’m not judging you without the why’s or the how’s.”

He gives me a dark smirk. “Only judging me based on the results?”

I give him a disappointed look. “If that were the case, I’d have had you arrested and hung by now.”

He stands from the bed in a huff, anger, pain, grief? Written all over his face. He paces back and forth before me, barely making two strides before having to turn about face and take two more. I wait for him to find what he wants to say. He stops twice, looks down at me, mouth open looking like he’s going to speak, only to shut his mouth with an audible clack and continue to pace. On the third time, I stand up and grab his shoulders forcing him to stop pacing. He looks me in the eye and wilts in my grasp like a dying flower.

“If only I could remember…” he whispers. “Then I would know. If what I’ve done is something unforgivable.”

He doesn’t remember. He really doesn’t remember. Man, trauma is a wicked thing. I grin, I can’t help it. This is just too rich, too perfect. Just look at us, a couple of amnesia stricken self flagellating fools. I tilt my head back and give a raucous harsh laugh. He leans away from me, giving me a pensive look. 

“What would you do, if say tomorrow, we found out that I am also supposedly guilty of a crime I don’t remember committing? Would you hold it against me? Would you condemn me on the spot?” 

His expressive eyebrows knit together. “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because… erm, because…” he flounders.

“Remember Julian, I have no memories prior to three years ago. I could be the most evil woman on the planet, and I would be none the wiser.” I beam up at him. “Not remembering is what it is. What’s important is knowing what you’ll do once you find out the truth.”

He stares at me mouth agape. I can almost see the cog wheels turning in his head. 

“That is what you came back for right? To find out the truth? To get answers?”

“Yes…”

“Then that’s the question you should ask yourself, instead of beating yourself ragged over the what if’s.” It’s not lost on me that I should be taking my own advice on this, but right now I’m trying to help Julian.

“I--” I can almost feel his resolve fall into place. “If I can’t make it right… then I’ll take whatever punishment I deserve. Without question.”

“That’s a noble sentiment. Based on that, I’ll be around defending your character and trying to save your life, even when you won’t.” 

His mouth forms a thin line. “You have so much faith in a person you’ve just met.” 

“I have faith in the man who saved my life when he didn’t have to. But don’t give me too much credit, I have other ways of coming to my conclusion.” The brow above his left eye raises in question. “Like how everyone tells me to steer clear of you, but all the while enjoying your company and at ease with you. How you can move about the market in broad daylight, people shouting out to you in welcome, rather than to the guards for your capture. But, the most important thing--” I reach up and grab his face. “You labeled and watered my mold specimens! A man after my heart!” I place a hand on my heart, and the other on my forehead and I fall dramatically back onto the bed. 

This gets a quick laugh from him, and he sits next to me on the bed. 

"Well, that conversation did get a bit dour, didn't it?" He rubs his face and gives me a small genuine smile. 

"Necessary conversations aren't always the most pleasant. But I feel better, don't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose I do." 

"Great!" I scoot up on the bed and lean against the headboard. "Now, I'm jealous that you have childhood memories and I don't, so get your ass up here and start telling me some juicy stories that I can embarrass Portia with later." 

This gets him genuinely laughing as he crawls to me. "There's not many of those. It was usually me getting into trouble and Pasha getting me out of it."

"Then tell me about where you grew up." He reaches me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.

"Well, I officially grew up in a small town in the south next to the salt flats, known for its saltwater hot springs."

"Oh! Nevivon?" He smiles and nods. "I import salts from there often for the shop. We put them in relaxation bath potions." 

"You use the salt for magic?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Not _everything_ I sell is magical based." I pout. He laughs and continues.

"Pasha and I lived there with our _bake_ \--er grandmothers. There were a few of them, but there needed to be to deal with all of us ragamuffins. There were 6 of us total. All various ages. I was one of the oldest." 

"...you were orphans?" I ask shocked.

He nods, "We were young when it happened. Pasha doesn't remember anything from before. But our childhoods were great, full of action and adventure. Lilinka watched over Pasha and me, Mazelinka was her pirate lover." Now I'm totally enraptured. "Maz would come to port every few months and bring us trinkets from her travels. Teach us sword fighting." He waggles his brows. I laugh. "Lilinka owned a bath house, and we helped her run the place. It was a simple living, but it was pleasant."

"How did you become a doctor?"

"It was Lilinka's idea. She must have seen something in me, looking past the gangly, clumsy colt of a boy I was back then. Far from the suave debonair masterpiece you see before you now." I roll my eyes. "She paid for my trip to Prakra, apparently she had saved up for it for some time. Once there I secured an internship and learned everything I could. After that I traveled, paying my way with my medical knowledge, gaining experience in battlefield triages. It wasn't until the Red Plague appeared that I found my true calling."

I yawn and fidget next to him, getting more comfortable. He hums next to me.

"I'm sorry, is my life story boring you?"

I pinch his side, "Absolutely not, it's fascinating. It's just that your voice is very soothing."

"Ah, that's a first. People usually tell me I'm annoying with my incessant prattling."

"Keep talking medicine man, I'm almost asleep." I murmur.

"In that case, I shall regale you with the story of how I stole a pregnant war elephant. As long as you promise to still respect me after." 

I snort. "No promises." I concentrate more on the rumble in his chest than the words coming out of his mouth, and I'm soon lulled back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Malak. His scenes are my favorite scenes.


	6. Compulsion

I'm jarred awake by the closing of a door. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. I can tell it's daytime by the ambient sounds from outside; birds chirping, people talking. I look around to see that I'm alone in the room. I pull the covers from my legs and peek past the curtain. 

In the small kitchenette, a short, stout woman moves about cleaning up what must have been breakfast. She pours the remainder of a bowl of golden brew into a flower box at the window. As she moves away, I see the trampled remains of yellow dragon's breath twitching trying to stand upright. I frown.

"Good morning, Marion right?" The woman says to me, filling up the bowl with a fresh ladle of the golden soup. She turns setting the bowl on the table. 

"Mazelinka?" 

"Aye, girl. Have a seat, don't let the brew get cold." She eyes me through a wild veil of grey-brown wirey hair, but she gives me a genuine gap toothed smile. I smile back and sit at the table, the soup smells delicious. 

"I'm sorry about the dragon's breath… it wasn't my idea to come in through the window, and I'm not known for being graceful…" I blush.

She clicks her tongue in annoyance. "Ilya's not known for using doors. I'd give him a key, but he wouldn't use it anyway." 

"Not true, he uses the door when he's breaking into my shop." I taste the soup and nearly moan at the flavor. 

She slams her wooden spoon onto the counter, " _Prokletstvo Ilyushka, ti sklizak dečko_!" She grumbles to herself. I have no idea what she just said, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't good. She points the spoon at me and I freeze like a spotted deer. "Don't you let him get away with things like that, the boy needs a good wallop once in a while to get his mind straight."

I nod slowly, not taking my eyes off the menacing wooden spoon. This woman used to be a pirate, right? I wonder if that was true or just an embellishment. At this point I'm too afraid to ask. 

"Eat up girl. Everyone in this town is too skinny. Not one of ya would last a day on the riggings, would be blown away at the slightest breeze." 

I grin and pick my bowl back up to drink. Besides the spoon, Mazelinka seems to be an alright lady. And honestly as long as the spoon isn't pointed at me, it might be comical to see her brandishing it. 

"The soup is delicious, Mazelinka. Thank you. Can you tell me where Julian ran off to?"

She hums and quickly whisks away the bowl, replacing it with a steaming cup of black as night coffee. I bask in the bitter scent, breathing deep. 

"Sugar, milk?" She asks, I nod. "I sent him off to get a few things for me. He should be back soon. Gives you enough time to take a bath." 

I startle at this, but I look down at myself still wearing one of Julian's undershirts. I bet I am an absolute mess. "Right, okay, yeah. Sounds good."

She gives another gapped grin and pats my shoulder. "Good, good. It's important to take good care of yourself. From what those brats of mine have told me, you could use a little R&R." 

"Hmm," I blow into my coffee, "seems the Devorak siblings are gossips."

She snorts, "More like town criers without the pay." 

I laugh and almost spill my coffee. I think Mazelinka and I will get along just fine. She chortles to herself and goes back to cleaning. 

I finish my coffee and take a bath. It's not until I'm putting on the clothes that Mazelinka has lent me that I realize how _good_ I feel. I look at my reflection in the washroom mirror, and it takes me a minute to remember why I don't have any bruises. My memory flashes back to watching bruises blossom and dissipate on Julian's face and shoulders. But past having _all_ of my wounds healed, I feel a pleasant tingle on my skin, and any fatigue has been drowned out. 

"Mazelinka? What was in that soup?" I call to her. I throw the borrowed peasants blouse over my head, it's a bit baggy, but it covers the goods so it works for me. 

"It's pep-up soup. Home recipe, a specialty of mine. The brats love it." She calls back.

I notice that she didn't tell me the ingredients. I smirk to myself. That's fine Maz, keep your secrets, but I'm not fooled, I know magic soup when I feel the effects. 

I put on the borrowed skirt and frown, looks like I'm showing off some calves today. Still better than running around the city in nothing but a scarf for a top.

I hear a squawk and Mazelinka curse in her tongue. I peek around the corner to see Malak stealing a slice of bread and almost getting smacked with the spoon. He darts over to me, half of the slice of bread falling to the floor but managing to keep the other half. He lands on my shoulder, his version of a laugh echoing through the room. He eats the bread as fast as he can. 

"Damn bird…" Maz glares at him picking up the dropped bread. I laugh and give Malak another scritch. 

Seconds later the front door opens and I see the familiar black overcoat backing into the house, hands taken up with a bag of items. "Mazelinka, my dear, I'm back!" He says absently. He makes it halfway into the door before he turns to us grinning. 

I smile at him, "Welcome back, Julian." Malak raises his wings on my shoulder. 

Julian's eye darts to me and he freezes in place, nearly dropping the bag of supplies. He stares at me, seemingly unable to move. 

Suddenly I'm embarrassed. Why is he staring? I shift on my feet uncomfortably. 

Maz rolls her maroon eyes, "In or out boy!" She swats at him with her spoon, it connects with the side of his head with a hollow thwack. "It's rude to stare!" I snort.

He flinches under the assault and strikes his head on the ceiling, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by it. "Good morning Marion, you look… uhm, well rested." He blushes, and hands off the bag to Mazelinka's waiting arms. He slowly closes the door, he tries to sneak peaks at me while he's taking his overcoat off and hangs it. He sighs, "They didn't have the articulated goosewart… I'm terribly sorry, usually my guy has everything." He gives an apologetic smile.

Articulated goosewart? "Oh! I have some of that at the shop. Don't worry Maz, I can get you some." I walk over and peek in the bag. I catch a glimpse of charred newt flesh and pickled tingleberry before she cinches the bag shut, giving me a conspiratorial glare. I can't help but laugh at her and stick out my tongue. She is sure determined to not let me know what she uses in her cooking. 

Julian looks at me confused. "Why would you sell articulated goosewart?"

I tilt my head to the side, "Because goosewart--"

Mazelinka interrupts with a loud click of her tongue and goes about putting away her supplies, being as noisy as possible. I don't say anymore, I can take a hint.

Malak distracts me by preening my hair and I coo at him, sitting in a table chair. I wait for Maz to quiet down before I look back up at Julian whose eye darts away from me quickly, slight blush on his face as he avoids eye contact. 

"Thank you for your hospitality. I hate to say it, but I think I've overstayed. I'm sure my friend Saffron probably has the entire city looking for me right now." I groan and rub at the bridge of my nose. I'm sure they're already at the shop having a heart attack, or planning how to kill me. 

"Nonsense girl, you stay as long as you need." Maz says.

"If that's the case, allow me to walk you home, my dear." Julian smiles at me, grabs his coat and heads to the door.

"Is that wise? I mean, it's broad daylight…" I frown.

He laughs, "Hasn't stopped me before." He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. This is true. Enigma, or stupid, right? I shrug and stand. 

Maz grabs my satchel and hands it to me. "Your clothes are in there too."

"Thank you." 

Julian holds his arm out for me, and I dramatically link my arm with his. "Oh please, kind gentleman, escort this gentlelady home!" 

He pats my arm and straightens to his full height, or tries to at least, he still has to tilt his head a bit. "It would be my absolute pleasure, my dear." 

Maz rolls her eyes again, but smiles kindly at us. "Yeah, yeah, get out of my house."

"Do you think it'd be too risky to stop by the Raven on the way?" I ask, looking up at Julian. We're walking comfortably down one of the side streets of South End, but it really wouldn't be out of our way to keep heading north to the Rowdy Raven. The day is sunny and bright, maybe a little past noon, judging by the shadows of the buildings.

He raises his eyebrows as he glances down at me, then bites his lip in thought. "Would anyone even be there this time of day?"

I nod, "Maybe not the regulars, but Barth would be there for sure. I would just feel better if we could know for a fact that everyone is okay. And let them know we're okay too."

He frowns, and looks forward with a pensive look. "I'm sure everyone is fine… but I'm sure they'd like to know how you are. No doubt Linus told everyone about your injury."

"Hmm," I nod again. "So, we should go?"

His brows pinch together in thought. "The spice dealers might have the place staked out."

I stop walking and frown. He stops too and watches me carefully. "I… I had forgotten about the spice dealers." My free hand automatically touches my side.

"Ah, I'm sorry I brought it up." He pats my hand softly. "But it is something that you shouldn't take lightly." 

I pinch my eyes shut and take a deep breath. "You're right. Okay. No Raven then."

He releases my arm and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head. "I'll stop by after getting you home. I'll get word to you somehow."

I give him a large relieved smile. "Thank you, Julian. That means a lot."

He gives a small smile, blushing just a hint across his cheeks. "Anything for you, my dear."

"Okay, time to lighten the mood and be annoying." I grab his arm like we had before and pull us along back into a comfortable walk. "I'm about to ask you an insane number of questions."

He laughs, it's a light hearted and pleasant sound. "Oho! Is it time to start getting personal?"

I give him a dark grin, "Depends on how far you wanna take it." I wink. He returns the grin. "Buuuut, I'm thinking we'll start small here. Favorite color?"

"Red. You?"

"You know that color of the ocean around sandbars?" He nods. "That color. I don't know it's name."

"So, you've been sailing? That color is typical around the Pearl Islands in Prakra." 

"Really? Oh, I'd love to see it. But no, not in my available memory. I've only seen it in paintings, but Asra said the paintings are close."

Julian looks aghast. "Paintings do _not_ give that sight justice."

"Maybe one day then. Favorite food? Mine are crab legs, I'm not picky about what kind of crab."

"Expensive tastes… Lobster claws, here."

I laugh, "Expensive too!"

"I have very refined tastes, _draga._ " He purrs at me playfully.

_Draga_. That's the second time he's called me that. "What does it mean?" 

"To have refined tastes?"

"No, _draga._ " 

"Er, ahem." He swallows. "Sorry, sometimes my native tongue slips out."

"I'll forgive you if you tell me what it means." 

"Nothing special. It means dear." 

Oh, well he calls me that all the time in my language. Calls Mazelinka that too. I notice the slight tinge on his cheeks and ears. "If that's all it means, why the blush? You call your _baka_ dear all the time."

His face goes bright red and he coughs. "Sometimes things get… lost in translation." I regard him for a moment and decide to let it go. I don't know any other languages, so I'll have to take his word for it. "Favorite flower?" He continues.

"Starstrand."

It's his turn to stop walking. He looks at me like his eye is about to pop out and roll down the street. "Even after recent events?"

I can't help it, I double over in laughter. "Yes, even after recent events. It's not the flower's fault."

"It was fortuitous then, that you were familiar enough with the flower to know it's poison scent as well." His look is pensive, like he's remembering something foul.

I shrug. "Asra and Saffron are always telling me I'm attracted to things that aren't good for me." I continue walking, "Yours?"

He follows alongside me, pursing his lips into a thin line. "I don't want to say…"

"Why not? It couldn't be worse than Starstrand!"

Again his face lights up in a bright blush. "...Wolfsbane…" he mumbles. 

I laugh so hard I stumble a bit on the cobblestone. "Are you shitting me? At least you can _touch_ Starstrand!"

His smile is sheepish, "What can I say, I like the danger."

I poke playfully at his side. "You edgy bastard." As soon as the words leave my mouth I stub my toe on the uneven cobblestone and feel myself lurch forward, strong arms grab me around the waist and my back meets a sturdy chest that's shaking with laughter.

"And you're a klutz, _draga._ " 

I lean into him, "Guilty as charged, doctor."

He squeezes me around my middle and kisses my hair before setting me on sure feet and releasing me.

We round a corner and I can see the shop a block or so away. Wow, that was a short walk. I was having so much fun that I didn't notice the distance fly under my feet. I swallow thickly. I don't want to go, I don't want Julian to leave. I wonder… I wonder if he would come inside? I'm not ready to part from him. I can't help but toy with the idea of returning the backdoor key. Would he use it? Would I really want him to? I bite my lip as we're suddenly in front of the shop door. 

"Ah. So, here we are. At your door." Julian fidgets with the fingers of his gloves. He turns to face me fully. "Will you be alright alone? Do you have someone to stay with you? With everything that happened last night I'd feel better knowing someone was looking out for you… If it could be me…" He reaches up and caresses my cheek. "But it can't be me." His face sours for a second. "Will you be careful? If not for yourself, then think of me. Think of me wringing my hands like I am now, remember the look on this face and don't get into trouble."

I smile, but it's more sardonic than reassuring. "Julian, I'm a walking disaster, that's not something I can say I can do with any certainty."

He groans and grabs the nape of my neck, pulling my forehead to his. "Please say you'll at least try? I don't know what I'd do if you're hurt again."

" _Again?_ " A deep voice growls from the doorway. 

We both jump and separate quickly. Damn, I hadn't even heard the door open. 

"Good afternoon, Saffron!" I give them an uneasy smile.

They growl at me again, and move slightly out of the doorway, making room for me to enter. I swallow and turn back to Julian. 

"I guess that's my cue. Thank you for walking me home." I grab and squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

I make it to the door frame before Saffron growls again. "You too, Devorak. I have questions, and you're going to give me answers."

Julian looks at me with a wide grey eye. I shrug and motion for him to follow. 

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the shop after the brightness of outside. Once they do, I see Muriel's hulking form sitting on a stool in the corner of the shop. Julian must see him at the same time, he makes the comment, " _Whoa_ , he's a big boy." I smirk.

"Julian, Muriel. Muriel, Julian." 

"I know who he is." Muriel mumbles, looking like he just licked a lemon. 

"Great! I think. At least half of the introductions aren't necessary." Julian looks nervous. "What questions do you have for me, exactly?"

Saffron eyes him, and pulls a chair from the reading table into the shop proper. "Sit." They instruct. Julian slides into the chair, leaning as far from Saffron as possible while sitting. 

"I have to say, you're much more intimidating when you're not dancing on tables." His eye is dancing back and forth between Saffron and me. Saffron crosses their arms over their bulky chest. 

"Oh c'mon Saffron, what's with the tough guy act?" I roll my eyes. I grab another chair and sit next to Julian.

Julian seems to have recovered from the shock because he gives Saffron a dark smirk. "Don't worry Marion, this isn't the first time I've been interrogated. Do your worst, sailor."

"Ex-sailor. I run the community theatre now." Saffron rumbles.

"I--really?" That knocks the smirk off of Julian's face. His eye lights up in interest. "When did Vesuvia get a community theatre?"

"Since I quit sailing." 

"Ah, right. That makes sense. I do hope you wouldn't mind if I dropped in sometime. I've a bit of a thespian streak in me." Julian gives a genuine smile.

Even Saffron can't keep up the hard act when a smile that dazzling is directed at them. I can almost see their walls cracking around them. 

"This is exciting!" Julian continues, "Could there be a Renaissance in Vesuvia? I must say the arts weren't appreciated before. I attempted Renaissance in a small coastal town called Port Tremaire, ever heard of it? Rowdy little town, the people weren't for doing much other than roughing each other up. Alas, rowdy is as rowdy does." He leans to me and waggles his eyebrows. "And when in Rome… as they say." I stifle a laugh.

Saffron is fully cracked now, and they sigh, leaning against the shop counter. "Alright you two, spill. What happened last night?" They give me a pointed look. "I stopped by here after practice. I assumed you went to the Raven…"

"Yes, the Raven was raided last night, there was a bit of a scuffle. We escaped relatively unharmed." Julian opens his arms to accentuate how unharmed we are. 

Saffron's expression sours. "And where, praytell, did you two hideout?"

Julian blushes and I hastily step in to try and cover. "Portia and Julian's grandma lives in South End. We stayed there for the night."

"Oh? But why do you look like you're glowing?" Saffron glares at Julian. "You look way better than you did yesterday, and you were quite _touchy_ when I caught you in the doorstep."

"Pep-up soup!" Julian's voice squeaks, and he clears his throat to correct it. "My grandmother makes amazing pep-up soup. It's a folk remedy from her Homeland, very potent stuff." 

"It's magic soup." I offer.

"Yes, it's-- what? No it's not!" He looks at me surprised.

I shrug. "Looks and tastes like magic soup to me."

"No, no. I've watched her make it." He turns in the chair to face me fully, hands animated in his discomfort. "No one chants nonsense from a fancy but ominous tome. There's no glowing circles and weird runes." He suddenly stills, and his eye drifts to the doorway leading to the reading room. "No one bleeds."

"I should hope not! Blood isn't a component in green magic. Blood is only used in very advanced spells, and most of that is forbidden, taboo." Wait. My eyes flick down to his throat where I saw the glowing sigil appear last night. I can feel my face pinch in thought. "You… haven't had good experiences with magic, so I understand your aversion to it."

He gives me a smirk. "It's hard to be comfortable with something you don't understand." 

"Aye, I'd drink to that." Saffron chimes in. 

I roll my eyes. "The two of you probably have more magical talent in your pinkies than I have in my entire body. Didn't stop me from learning and understanding." I poke Julian's chest. "I've heard stories of a country across the sea, Zadith I believe, that prizes people with the ability to hone magic and science together. I believe they call them alchemists. So, you could learn it if you tried."

Julian gives me an easy smile and takes my hand in his. "Ahh, my dear. Look at you, knowing things. All I know is that I don't know." This gets a huff from Muriel in the corner. I glance at him and give him a coy grin. 

"Marion, I need to recast the protections." Muriel rumbles. I nod. "Meet me out back, I have the circle ready." I watch him leave out the back door.

“Protections?” Julian asks.

“To keep me from being taken over again,” I explain, “Someone is trying to land a compulsion spell on me. One of the entities that has attacked me, I told you about it last night.” He nods. I turn towards Saffron, giving them the evil eye. "Look, I already know you plan on verbally attacking Julian when I'm out of earshot." I point accusingly at them. "Don't do it. Resist the urge scalawag. Or it's the plank with ya." 

Saffron rolls their chocolate eyes. "Don't threaten me with the Locker honey, not before you've ever set foot on a boat." 

I stick my tongue out at them and leave to meet Muriel outside.

~Interlude~

"She's a handful." Julian muses, mostly to himself, as the backdoor closes.

"You have no idea." Saffron agrees easily, but their friendliness seems to have reached an end and their eyes turn cold. "What are you doing Devorak? You're basically a dead man walking in Vesuvia."

The doctor regards the ex-sailor for a moment, then leans forward elbows on his knees. "My business is my business, Saffron was it?"

They nod, eyes narrowing. "It's my business when it concerns Marion. Your being in Vesuvia seems to have set off a chain reaction that's getting that girl into a shitty mess."

Julian narrows his own eye. "She told me she was having difficulty with "magic bullshit" as she put it. She didn't elaborate."

"Probably trying to spare your feelings." Saffron grumbles. 

Julian leans back into the chair once again, spreading his black gloved hands in a placating gesture. "I'm in the dark until you enlighten me. I will tell you that when I found her at the Raven, she was depressed and distraught, drowning herself in ale. Blaming herself for the vague and untrusting actions of her friends who are leaving her in the dark." His smile is dark and accusing as he continues, "That, at least, isn't my fault."

Saffron's face reddens in anger, all their bulging muscles tight, threatening to rip a seam of their tight shirt. "We have our reasons, Devorak. Don't judge things you don't understand." Julian's thick eyebrow arches above his good eye, and Saffron groans in acceptance. "Alright, fine, point taken. Let's meet in the middle, tell me why you're here, and I'll tell you why we can't keep her in the loop."

"Sounds fair." Julian stands, taking a deep breath. He walks over to a random shelf and toys with a small vial of some kind of purple liquid, collecting his thoughts. "The last 3 years I've been running. Running and hiding and tearing myself apart trying to understand what happened three years ago. Accusations haunt my every move, accusations that I don't know are true or not."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying; that there are pieces of my past missing, particularly the events of three years ago."

Saffron clicks their tongue in annoyance. "Well, isn't that convenient."

Julian gives a hollow laugh, peeking over his shoulder at Saffron. "Convenient or not, it's the truth. I came back seeking Asra, hoping to find answers."

"Well, you're probably going to get them. Asra is on his way back, and he's going to be searching you out." 

"Oh?"

"It seems, you hold some answers for him as well."

"Hmm," Julian let's the sound rumble in his chest. "Some people create their own storms, then get upset when it rains." 

"I'm not waiting for him to get my answers. There has to be something you remember, something that can give me a lead."

This has Julian's attention, but he wants his answers first. "Tell me why you're being secretive to Marion. And tell me what your plan is to help her."

Saffron grabs the chair Marion was using and spins it, sitting backwards. "She has amnesia, has she mentioned?" Julian nods slowly. "When she sees or hears something familiar to her, something that triggers a memory she gets intense headaches, bad enough to incapacitate her. While we were planning yesterday… she had an episode and Asra had to put her to sleep. We're trying to avoid triggering another."

"What happened that sent her spiraling?"

"She saw her twin sister."

Julian's eye widens in shock. "She has a twin?"

Saffron's face darkens. "Her name is Miranda. Sound familiar?"

"I--what? No? Why would--" Pain sears behind his eyes and he absently rubs at his forehead. 

"Really now. She seemed to know you. Even told us to seek you out, that you "were there." She seemed desperate to save Marion from Vesuvia's Quaestor, Valdemar."

That name sends a sharper pain through his temples to the base of his skull and he leans against the shelf, holding his head, eye wide from the shock. "I… I…" he takes a moment to fight back the pain. Valdemar, that name is familiar, but it leaves an unpleasant chemical taste in his mouth. 

He looks up and Saffron is watching him with intense eyes.

" _Marion!_ "

~Interlude End~

"So…" I sidle up to Muriel, a conspiratorial gleam in my eye. I can feel his skin vibrate with unease. "How long did you and Saffron hang out this morning? Hmm? Have you taken my advice and given them a sachet? Huh? Huh?"

Muriel grumbles something unintelligible and takes a seat just outside the circle made from torn twigs. I startle slightly at the twigs, I've never seen a circle made like this before. Asra told me a few times that Muriel's magic was more intune with nature, so maybe using twigs instead of chalk or ink makes his magic stronger. He motions for me to stand in the center.

I shake my head and stand my ground. Sometimes you have to insist on an answer from Muriel. No doubt he finds it annoying. I don't care though, I want answers. "Oh c'mon…"

He glares at me with deep green eyes, but his resolve crumbles under my plea. "...wanted to avoid the flirting."

I laugh and step in the circle. "Did it work?"

He grumbles again and blushes, not making eye contact. "Still flirts, just not as intensely."

I smirk at him. I know he says he wants to be alone, but everything about him screams loneliness. I'm happy he's decided to open himself up to another person. Saffron is a fierce friend to have, but they are loyal and caring. Saffron's friendship would do him some good I think, instead of a flakey Asra and a troublemaking me.

"Alright, let's do this and get it over with… will it hurt?" 

He looks harried for a second and he shrugs his shoulders, chains clinking slightly. "I don't know, when I cast the spell on you yesterday you were asleep. I have to release the old spell before I cast the new one." He gestures to the twig circle. "S'what the circle is for."

I gulp, "Is it to keep the compulsion out, or… keep me in?"

"You in."

A shiver runs down my spine. "That's like, just a safety measure right? I mean, compulsion can't be that strong of magic…" Deep down I know better from my own readings. 

"They've had more than a day to increase the strength of their spell. To cast out a wider range of netting to capture you." Muriel looks even more serious than I've ever seen him, and he's not much for joking around to begin with. "Better to be safe than sorry."

I nod, eyes dashing to the circle, to Muriel, the leather bag of bones, nuts and rocks Muriel uses in some of his magicks, to my hands. Okay, I can do this. 

"How long between dissolving the old spell and casting the new one?" I ask quietly.

"A few minutes, I have to make sure the old spell is gone before casting the new one, or it will compromise the new spell."

"Right, okay. Do I need to do anything?" 

"Stand in the circle and fight any compulsions you feel."

"Oh, is that all?" My voice squeaks a little.

Muriel gives me a very, very rare smile. "You'll be okay, Marion."

His smile gives me courage. "Okay, okay. I got this. Ready when you are."

He touches the circle, and the twigs around his hand glow with a green tinge, the twigs next to them taking in the glow and chasing around the circle until every twig is alight. I can hear them vibrating against each other with energy. I would find it intriguing if I weren't standing in the middle. I swallow and take a deep breath, trying to be ready for anything.

I watch Muriel take out the trinkets in the leather bag, holding them in one hand, watching them fall into the other. They make a rustling sound that seems louder than it should be. 

"Muriel, is it ok if I sit?" He nods and I lower myself into a cross-legged position. I watch him as he does his thing with his magical trinkets. I'm lulled slightly by the vibration of the twigs, the rhythmic rustling coming from Muriel, so much so that I don't feel it at first but when it grabs hold, my muscles tighten, my back going ramrod straight. I widen my eyes and try to call out to Muriel, but my voice doesn't obey. Color bleeds from my vision, leaving only black, white, and gray. 

I stand against my will. I'm shocked at how it feels, how violating it is. I turn towards the gate leading out to the street. I try to make my legs stop moving, try to use my voice to call for help.

"Fight it, Marion." I hear Muriel instruct. I am! This isn't easy!

My body takes two steps towards the gate, and it makes contact with a glowing wall. I can barely move my eyes down to see the edge of the twig circle. My hands move up, as if confused by the resistance, and they feel along the circle, looking for a weakness. 

"Marion, you have to fight it." Muriel rumbles behind me. I am, damnit! I'm telling my body to stop, but it's not obeying. It doesn't seem to have any issue ignoring my commands. 

My hand comes up to my mouth, I insert the tip of my right pointer finger between my canine teeth and bite hard. _Fuck!_ My finger leaves my mouth bleeding a large amount. The iron taste in my mouth is sickening, but I can't swallow it, so it runs out the side of my mouth and down my chin. 

My finger traces circle runes onto the glowing wall in front of me. Shit, shit, _shit._ Who knew you could draw on light barriers? 

" _Marion!_ " 

The red of my blood is bright against the glow of the barrier, it pulses stronger as details are added to the circle. I've never seen these runes before… 

"Marion!" Saffron, Julian! I try to still my hand as it continues it's glide against the barrier. The blood pulses more brightly, I can see the barrier beginning to crack.

"Muriel--"

"Saffron, what's he doing to her?!"

"He's casting the protection spell!"

"Why are you letting strangers cast magic on her, that's dangerous!"

"What?"

"If she breaks from the circle, grab her! I'm almost done." 

Saffron and Julian run into my field of vision. Julian looks white as a sheet, even Saffron's mocha skin looks ashen as they look me over.

"What do we do?" Julian asks, hands twitching.

"If she breaks through, grab her legs, I'll get her arms." Saffron growls.

"What's happening to her?"

"She's under the compulsion, I can't tell if she's fighting or not."

I am! Hurry up!

My finger finishes the last rune and there's a loud crack. _OhmygodMurielhurryupdon'tletmeescape!_

The tension leaves my body and I promptly crumble onto the ground, landing hard and awkwardly on my face. I groan, but oh does it feel good to groan. 

"Marion, oh Marion, are you okay?" Strong arms grab my shoulders and turn me over. It's Julian, and he pulls me onto his lap, checking me over.

"I've been better." I smirk.

"You're bleeding." He frowns.

"Been doing a lot of that lately." He is not amused at my nonchalance.

Muriel's hulking form casts a shadow over us. "That was harder than I anticipated, I'm sorry Marion."

Julian stares up at him in shock, intimidation written all over his face. 

"Julian, meet Muriel… again." I snort.

"Again?" Julian looks down at me bewildered.

Muriel shoves a sachet into Julian's chest and walks away with a tired harrumph. Aww, Muriel, making friends.

"Keep that on you, I'll explain later." Julian eyes me but nods anyway. 

Saffron rubs their face in exhaustion, smearing some of their eyeshadow. "Bring her inside, will you Devorak?" 

"I can walk…" I mumble. My legs do feel a bit weak though. "Maybe."

Saffron rolls their eyes and goes inside.

"It's no trouble, my dear." He smiles. "But first…" he takes his glove off with his teeth and takes my right hand, the sigil glows at his throat and I watch with amazement as the bite on my finger heals. 

I stare at my finger in awe. "So fascinating…" he laughs at me and hoists me up effortlessly. The movement makes me a tad woozy, I close my eyes to suppress the vertigo. 

“Are you going to be okay?” He murmurs into my hair. I take a moment to revel in his scent, it immediately calms me. 

“Yeah, I will be.” I sigh. “Just don’t drop me, I don’t think I’ll survive a fall from this high up.” I open my eyes to see him grinning half heartedly at me.

“Do you always deflect with humor?” He asks, walking towards the door.

“‘Tis a specialty of mine.” 

“Good to know.”

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Muriel’s voice is deep but quiet as we enter the shop.

“No, he says he doesn’t remember three years ago.” Saffron seethes. 

“It was closer to four years since…”

“Well, he didn’t remember her name. He even claims he doesn’t remember killing the Count! I’m not so sure I’d trust his _convenient_ forgetfulness.”

They both go silent as they hear us approach. Julian’s mouth is pressed into a thin frown. We enter the shop proper to see them both in the same positions as before, only Muriel is watching us with a close eye. I know that look.

“Spill it, Muriel.” I glower at him as Julian sets me down in my chair. 

He gives me a petulant look then regards Julian with curiosity. “You don’t remember the night of the fire?”

“Err, no. Um, I’m afraid not. Wait, were you there?” Julian drops into his chair, full attention on Muriel.

Muriel nods, but doesn’t continue. 

Julian is a bundle of nerves beside me. “Uuummm, care to elaborate?” His voice is high from the anticipation. I watch Muriel, and he seems to almost enjoy watching Julian squirm. Interesting.

“Asra sent me to find you.”

Julian’s back stiffens, all of his muscles tighten, almost as if he’s about to sprint off. Coiled up like a spring. “Asra sent… He was there? You know Asra--wait of course you know Asra.” His hand goes to rub up against his forehead. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”

Muriel regards him longer, the enjoyment gone from his eyes. “You were locked in a dungeon.”

“ _Before_ the murder? What for?” 

Muriel shrugs. “I don’t know, but I let you out. You seemed in a hurry to get to… _his_ room. You know. _Him_. I led you there, the room was already on fire. You ran in, I left.”

Julian and I stare at Muriel, eyes wide, mouths open. The room is quiet for several moments.

“Muriel…” Saffron is the first to recover. “Are you telling us Devorak is… what, innocent?”

“The room was already on fire…?” Julian whispers. I turn to him, a smile forming on my face. “I’m innocent…?” He looks down and removes the glove from his left hand, his murderer’s brand bold against his pale skin. 

Relief floods me, I sink into my chair. I don’t have to turn him in now, I don’t have to think about the prospect of sending him to the gallows. Julian must feel relieved. I glance over at him, and his face is a myriad of emotions. He lifts a shaky hand and rubs along his eyepatch absently. I reach over and take his other hand, and he looks up at me with a wide eye. I can almost see a glint of hope within. 

“I… remember now. A-at least some. I _was_ in the dungeon that night… I was working on a cure.” He clicks his tongue. “I wasn’t making fast enough progress… Lucio locked me down there to-to incentivize me.” He gives me a dark smirk. “Said it’d keep me from getting distracted.”

I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. “If you got there after the fire started… then that would answer why the Courtier’s claim to have seen you there…” I turn to Muriel. “Would you… and I know you won’t like this but… would you consider testifying to Nadia? I know I’d have to get more evidence…” I look back at Julian, hope undoubtedly in my eyes now too. “But Julian, this is a start. I have something to go off of now.”

Muriel shifts on his stool, but he gives me a slight nod. I smile at him. 

“Don’t worry, that is still a ways off. First,” I make eye contact with Julian, I bring his hand up to my chest. “We need to get to that dungeon. We’ll need more than Muriel’s testimony to override the Courtier’s. I wonder if I can sneak you into the palace too… maybe seeing the scene of the crime might jog some more of your memories.” I leap to my feet, excited. I sway slightly and Julian grabs my waist to steady me. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” Saffron muses. “It’s wonderful that Devorak is regaining his memories. Honestly, it’s a bit of a relief considering your recent… _attachment_.” They gesture to our connected hands, we both blush. “But we still have to worry about your safety. I say we lay low until Asra gets here.” I make to rebut, but they silence me with a wave of their hand. “He’s waited three years to get to the bottom of this, honey. He can wait two more days.”

“They’re right, my dear.” Julian smiles up at me. “For the moment, I’ll just bask in the fact that I’m innocent. We can investigate more after we make sure you’ll be safe.”

“ _Finally_ , one of you is using your brain.” Saffron smirks. Julian and I give them a deadpan look at the same time. We notice and grin at each other. Saffron and Muriel roll their eyes.

Julian stands, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, giving me a quick side hug. “I should be going now.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, smiling. “I’ll go see everyone at the Raven.” He turns to Saffron. “You’ll let me know when Asra arrives?” 

Saffron nods. “I’ll find you, if he doesn’t first.”

The doctor tugs his gloves back on, and looks at me awkwardly. “Be safe, Marion.” He nods to the other two. “Saffron, Muriel.” 

I watch him head for the front door and I suddenly remember. “Wait!” I dash on unsteady feet to a shelf, searching then grabbing the articulated goosewart. I dash behind the counter and grab the spare back door key, I hide it under the goosewart package. I give the bundle to Julian, who is watching me with a curious eye. “Articulated goosewart, for Maz.” I give him a meaningful look, and I see the recognition in his eye as he feels the key. “See you tomorrow.” I whisper and wink at him. 

He blushes and clears his throat. “Thank you, Maz will be delighted.” He smiles slyly and tucks himself out of the door. 

“What was that?” Saffron scowls.

“A magic ingredient for pep-up soup.” I smile. 

It's late, I have no idea what time. A glance out of the window from the store room only reveals darkness. I sit at my small makeshift table, made from a crate full of glass vials and a stool. The room is illuminated by a single candle that I have perched on the shelf next to my specimens of mold. On the table in front of me are my notes, sketches and charts for my experiment. Propped up on the shelf opposite the candle is the medical journal describing the process of making penicillin. 

Now that I've grown _penicillium_ successfully, I need to grow a larger amount of it for experimentation. After having drawn my sketches of my initial specimen, I'm slowly cutting small pieces of the bread that I used as my medium and placing them in small sterile vials. My main problem is this time of year is colder here. Vesuvia doesn't get much of a winter, but it's far too cold to properly incubate the mold. Not if I want a decent amount quickly. In Prakra, their climate is more tropical than the temperate that Vesuvia has. The air is more naturally humid, and it doesn't get very cold. The air is dryer here in Vesuvia… 

I've come up with a solution though. I hope. I'm going to put these vials in a glass flower frog and set them on the stove. Over the top of that I'll put a large crystal bowl to use as a dome to keep the humidity in. I'm pretty sure I can sweet talk our stove salamander to keep the stove warm enough to incubate. The only problem would be to make sure Asra doesn't cook or make tea and bake my vials on accident. 

A child's terrified wail cuts through my psyche like butter and I shake involuntarily. I rub my hand tiredly over my face. I brace for the skittering, the skeevy skin crawling sound making the hairs all over my body stand on end. This would be the reason why I'm not upstairs next to Saffron in the bed, getting rest. I can't sleep through these noises and the images I see when my eyes are closed. 

This didn't start until after my encounter with Valdemar, so I have a feeling this is a side effect of their attempt to compel me. It's just unnerving to me that these sounds seem… familiar. 

I place the last piece of bread into a vial and start placing the vials in the flower frog holes. I carefully pick up the frog, blow out my candle and take it into the kitchenette. 

" _Friend._ " I hear a familiar silky voice.

"Faust!" I look around and see the slithering reptile coming straight for me. "Oh Faust." I pick up the lavender ball python and give her a kiss on her cute little snoot. "No Asra?"

" _Sent ahead. Make sure safe._ " She curls around my shoulders and I can feel some of the tension leave my body. 

"Safe as I can be for the moment." I nuzzle her head with my nose.

" _Glad."_ She tickles my ear with her tongue. I laugh, but continue with my work, setting the crystal bowl up as the dome to my incubator. 

I open the oven door and a bleary eyed burnt orange salamander blinks up at me. I toss him a few wood chips. "You think you can keep a constant temperature for me big guy? For like 7 days?" It blinks at me, but it begins to glow, I smile. 

" _Sleep, need rest._ " Faust says in my ear.

I sigh. "I know, Faust. I'll try again once I get the salamander to the right temperature." I stick a meat thermometer under the dome and I watch the needle climb. "Right there big guy, can you keep it there?" The salamander gives me a toothless grin. "Atta boy." I close the door and yawn. "Okay Faust, you win. I'll try to sleep again, but I make no promises." I start up the stairs, but Saffron's raucous snoring stops me in my tracks. There's no way I'll sleep with that in my ear. 

Luckily, Asra is a bit of a comfort freak. I go into the reading room where there are pillows galore. I make myself a nice little pallet of pillows and cushions and curl up. Faust unfurls herself from my neck and curls into a coil on a pillow next to my head. "Faust, when will Asra be here?"

" _Soon._ "

"How soon is soon?"

" _Soon._ "

"Okay, fine. Good night, Faust."

" _Goodnight._ "

_"One of my finest moments as a medic," 069 muses writing something in his journal before popping open another vial with two leeches inside. "Was when I was working in a battlefield triage. We were set up right outside Annyala Gate, this was some years ago now, before Count Lucio became the Count of Vesuvia. Back then he was just some random mercenary leader trying to make a name for himself. I suppose I was in the same boat, I was just a random medical apprentice." He plucks a leech from the vial with a long pair of thin tweezers. "Here comes the first leech, 017."_

_I brace for the sting of the bite, but it doesn't hurt long. I wait for the doctor to continue his story._

_"During the battle, I forget who they were fighting, Lucio's left arm was wounded. Pretty badly. One of his men dragged him into the triage tent, sputtering and wailing. We got to work on him immediately, but his arm was shattered, there was no piecing it back together, and with how quickly gengreen can set in, we decided his best chance was amputation." He plucks the other leech. "Leech number two."_

_I feel the pressure, but there's no sting from this one. I hear him set down the vial and make another note in his journal._

_"I told one of his commanding officers what we had to do, and he seemed pretty upset. Kept going on and on about how Lucio's vanity wouldn't handle it well. He was right of course, Lucio didn't handle it well. When he awoke after the surgery he was delirious from the morphine and kept asking about his arm." He leans on the medical table I'm laying on and rests his chin in his hand, well as best as he can with that mask on. "I was so annoyed at one point I grabbed his face and yelled at him 'Lucenzo! You're going to be all right from now on!'"_

_...oh my god. No way. He didn't! I start slapping the table with my right hand in quick succession, in time with the rhythm of my laughter in my head._

_"Ah ha! I knew you'd find that funny. My mentor thought it was funny too. The mercenaries not so much." He looks down at me and checks the leeches attached to my side. "You have a good sense of humor, 017. I'm glad we figured out a way for you to express it."_

_I tap my finger in agreement._

_"Ah, I believe my lovelies here have had their fill." He plucks them easily from me, replacing them in the vial with the tweezers. "Let's hope I've got the right concoction to keep these alive. 017, we're on the verge of a break through!" He holds the leeches out dramatically. I slap my hand to laugh at him. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You won't be laughing when I cure you of the plague."_

_I tap my finger once._

_"That's more like it, 017. Optimism! Ah, er, well that's easy for me to say. I'm not a test subject with the plague…" he looks abashed. He starts cleaning the bite wounds. I wish I could communicate more than just laughs, yes, or no. I want to tell him that it's okay, that I believe in him and the other doctors. I want to tell him that he's a dork, and that I look forward to his stories._

_"017…" uh oh, his tone turned serious. "They say you can't feel pain. I've seen some of the things they've done to you, things that no one would be able to sit through undeterred, but you do. So, I was just curious… do you feel pain?"_

_That got dark quick. Should I tell him? What will he do with the information?_

_After a long moment, I tap my finger once._

_He goes still, looking down at his hands. I don't think I've ever seen him this still, usually he's got some kind of movement to him, some kind of fidget._

_"During my times with you, have I hurt you?"_

_What? I mean, yeah, but not like they do… how do I answer?_

_I tap once, then twice quickly._

_He looks up. "Yes and no huh? I wish I knew what that meant… let's do this. When you feel pain clench your toes. Can you clench your toes?" I do as he asks. "Okay, good. If I hurt you, clench your toes to let me know."_

_I tap my finger once._

_"Now, would you like to hear about the time I was captured by pirates?"_

_I slap my hand a few times, then tap my finger. He laughs and jumps into his tale._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come, stay tuned!


	7. Red Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than normal today. My small insignificant gift to you, for having to deal with quarantine's and COVID-19.

I yawn and dip my paint brush into the can of paint. I should have known when Saffron woke me up at the crack of dawn and insisted that I come to the theatre with them that they wanted me to paint. They played their hand like they knew I wasn't going to stay at the shop so I might as well tag along with them… and to be honest there was no way in hell I was going to stay at the shop, so they got me there. But damn it, if they wanted me to paint, all they had to do was ask. 

I lean back to survey the work I've done so far, being mindful of leaning too far on the hanging platform. It's not much right now, but I'm laying the foundation for a mountain range background for one of Saffron's directors. I should have it finished by this afternoon, distant mountains aren't hard to paint. Unless they are expecting crazy detail. They're gonna have to pay me for that.

Honestly it's nice to have the distraction. I grab the rope pulley and lower myself down a few feet to start my next section of backdrop. I ready my brush and continue.

I hope Julian finds the note I left on the shop counter. I blush slightly as I remember returning the backdoor key to him. I'm not sure what was going through my mind when I did that, but thinking about the implications… I groan and resist the urge to bang my head on the hanging platforms safety bar. Good grief, with everything that's going on right now, the thing I'm most nervous about is what Julian must think of my bold action. 

Let's not be shy, Marion. We're both adults… sort of. At least age wise, maturity on the other hand… 

I don't care, I like him and that's that. I'm no stranger to the whims of the human body, I've had partners before. None that I was excited to see the next day, but maybe that's what makes Julian different. I actually  _ care  _ about him, I want to be near him, to listen to him speak, to smell his scent, to taste… 

I grope at the rail, having leaned too far forward. 

"Damn it, Marion! Be careful up there!" Saffron's voice echoes in the theatre stadium. 

I brandish my paint brush like Mazelinka does her spoon towards Saffron on the main floor. "I am careful! If you don't like how I do things then get your own ass up here and do it!"

"Honey, don't make me come up there and whoop your ass." 

"I don't know Saffron, you're a few years out from climbing the riggings like you used to. Are you sure you can?"

" _ Are you calling me fat?! _ "

Oh shit, might have gone too far with that. "I would  _ never _ ."

"You little shit, you have to come down sometime." 

"You know you love me!" I laugh.

They grumble and walk away from the stage, answering the hail from one of the stage hands.

"Hey Marion!" I look down to see young Hassan running up the stage steps. Kid couldn't be more than 14 or so. "There's someone at the front door asking for you. He won't give me his name."

"Is he a super tall redhead with an eyepatch?" Hassan nods, eyes wide. "Send him in!" 

A few minutes later I look over from painting to see Julian's tall dark form enter through the front foyer. I wave at him and he smiles at me, using his long strides to easily maneuver the awkward length of the steps. I start to use the pulley to lower myself down. 

"Devorak!" Saffron says in surprise. There's a hush in the theatre and everyone turns to look. Even from this distance I can see Saffron's eyes narrow, they look up at me with a wicked gleam in their eye, and a smirk on their face.

Uh oh.

" _ Julian! Run! _ " I shriek, laughing.

He looks unsure, but as soon as he sees Saffron break into a run he hauls ass towards me, a wild smile on his face. 

"Hurry, hurry!" I'm laughing too hard, I can't use the pulley properly and I can't lower it in time. 

Saffron closes the distance surprisingly fast and just manages to grab Julian's overcoat before he reaches the stage. Like a skink dropping its tail to a predator he shirks out of his overcoat and lithely jumps onto the stage. I hoot in triumph trying to pull the pulley again. Julian looks up at me laughing. Saffron growls climbing up onto the stage. I squeak, but Julian is unphased. He grabs hold of the ropes dangling below the platform and easily climbs them. I lean over to allow him room to climb over the railing. 

"Looks like at least  _ someone  _ is sea worthy!" I taunt, laughing. Together we pull down on the ropes raising us back up to my previous position. The theatre erupts into cheers and hoots.

"Get down here so I can kick your ass!" Saffron says laughing, tossing Julian's coat to Hassan. 

I tug on the pulley again and Julian helps me, I blow a kiss to everyone as we ascend up past the grand valance and out of sight. 

Laughing and out of breath, I turn to Julian, who is also laughing, though I can see the confusion on his face. 

"You," I poke his chest, "are a slippery boy. I thought for sure Saffron had you!" 

He runs his gloved hand through his hair, removing his wild tendrils from his face. "I thought they had me too. Erm, I will get my coat back, right?"

I laugh again and without thinking I grab his collar and tug him towards me planting a full on kiss to his lips. It doesn't take him but half a second to get past his shock before he's snaking his hand to the nape of my neck and returning the kiss. 

We break apart slowly, taking our time. I smile at him, I'm not sure if I'm flushed from the excitement or from the kiss. Looks like he's in the same boat. 

"What was that all about, anyway?" He asks, eye half lidded watching me.

I grin, "I've been giving Saffron shit all morning, they just saw your arrival as a way of getting back at me. You have good instincts, and you're pretty quick."

He leans back, unbuttoning his waist coat to be more comfortable. "Well, I'm glad being on the run for three years has prepared me for my grand escape from Saffron." I give him a hearty laugh. "Oh? What have we here?" 

I follow his look and curse under my breath. I overturned a couple of my paint cans in the excitement, I right them and thank my luck that they weren't full. "Just some paint. I help paint the backdrops for some of the performances."

He looks positively electric, looking down at my work so far and peeking down at the rest of the production. "This is marvelous, when I followed the directions on your note and came here I have to admit I was skeptical. Did you know this place used to be a quaint tea shop? I used to come here often, it had the best ambiance with little booths. You could sit and talk for hours. They served the best smoky tea…" 

"I know the owners, they moved up financially, opened a new tea shop near the Floating Market. They still serve that smoky tea." 

"Delightful! I feared they had gone under. We should go sometime." 

"I'd like that." I readjust my sitting position and grab for the pulley. "I have to get back to work though, they need this backdrop for the play this weekend and I have a feeling this is the only day I'll have to do it."

"Ah okay. Errrr, should I leave you to it then…?"

"Absolutely not! Only safe place for you now is up here with me. Help me lower us, you've added too much weight."

He gives me that roguish grin. "Do I have to? What if I wanted to canoodle some more up here in private?"

My blush must be luminous at this point, but I ignore it and give my own roguish grin. "Privacy? There's no privacy in theatre." I lean closer to him, shoulders touching and faces close. "Besides, I can canoodle and work at the same time, I'm a girl of many talents."

I run my nose along the edge of his jaw, stopping when I reach his sideburn. He hums deep in his chest, but doesn't move, almost like he's waiting for something. I let out a heavy breath over the thick neck muscle and I feel him shiver. I smile and place a hot open mouthed kiss on the muscle, but I don't linger long. I lean up and nibble just slightly at his ear.

"I need to get back to work, Julian. If you're a good boy… well, you get the idea." I whisper into his ear. He shivers again, making the platform vibrate. He reaches over slowly and takes the pulley rope, I smile at him under lidded eyes. He bites his lip and operates the pulley to lower us down.

I turn to set up my paints, and I direct him on where I want to be. I dive back into it, and there's just a moment's hesitation on his part before he swings his impossibly long legs to dangle on either side of mine, curling over me from behind, chin on my shoulder. I swallow back my nerves, heart fluttering wildly. 

"Everyone is fine." He murmurs to me. "I down played your injury to them, I didn't want to… well you know." I nod. He chuckles, the vibration in his chest sends warm tingles throughout my body. "It's a lucky thing that Linus is known for over embellishment." I snort. "How are you feeling, my dear? Yesterday's…  _ events _ were a bit harrowing."

My paint brush stalls for just a moment, but it's long enough for him to have noticed. He squeezes me around my middle gently, comfortingly. "I'm okay." I say softly.

"Would you tell me if you weren't?"

My body stills again. Would I? I think about how he makes me feel, how he can both calm me and excite me at the same time. I think about how he willingly shared his thoughts a night ago. I nod my head slowly. "Yes, I believe I would." He hums his approval into my ear, sending goose bumps along my arms and legs. I resume my painting.

We sit for a long time in silence, Julian slowly taking in my scent, playing with my hair and tickling my neck with his pointed nose and me enjoying having a backboard to lean on. He lowers or raises us as I need without difficulty. 

I chew on my inner lip, debating to ask my next question. "How does it feel to know you're innocent?" I take a second to glance back at him. All I can see is the eyepatch. "Has anything else come back to you since yesterday?"

I can feel the tension in his muscles slowly build, whether from excitement, or apprehension, I don’t know. I wait for him to speak. His mouth opens and closes with little clicks from the hinge of his jaw and clacks of his teeth. Finally he gives a defeated sigh and deflates onto my back like a popped balloon. 

“I don’t remember more, but I didn’t tell you everything yesterday.” He admits, his voice dripping with uncertainty. 

I drop my paintbrush onto the tray with the paint cans and turn slightly in his embrace so I can see his good eye. “I’m not going to make you tell me, I know sometimes there are secrets that need to be kept. Or information that doesn’t need to be shared… but I will say if it’s about your innocence, telling me might be a good idea.”

He frowns, his good eye bouncing quickly between mine. “During the Red Plague…” he starts thickly, I watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows and tries again. “During the Red Plague, I was summoned to the palace. Doctors, magicians, apothecaries... from all over the continent were summoned. Vesuvia had been the city that was hit the worst, though the Red Plague had traveled some before landing here. I had been previously following the spread of the plague, so when I was summoned, I was already working and running a clinic here in Vesuvia.” He pauses, reaching up and rubbing his head as if it was hurting him. “It was… a nightmare. I’m sure you’ve heard stories…”

I nod and reach up to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. He leans slightly into my touch, eye closing for just a moment of reprieve. 

“I worked in the palace with the other doctors, searching for a cure… I was Count Lucio’s personal physician. Somehow, after having run into him several times throughout my career it seems Lucio trusted me.” He laughs, it’s a despairing sound. My brows furrow. “Having the trust of Count Lucio was not a good thing, it turns out. That night… you know,  _ the _ night, I was down in the dungeons locked in a cell…” he pauses and looks more nervous than I’ve seen him, up to this point. He wrings his hands, which are again shaking--death and taxes my ass--and swallows again. 

I take his hands in mine, having to turn more to reach them. “Julian, it’s okay if--”

“No, n-n-no, no,” he breathes out through his nose in a huff. “No.” He pulls my hands to his chest, and watches me with cautious eyes. “This might be important, so it’s best to pull the bandaid off now, as they say.” He releases my hands and reaches up to fiddle with his eyepatch. I saw him do this yesterday, maybe it’s a nervous habit? “The dungeons were also a workspace, my cell was actually my office… But I was locked in there because… b-because--” his eyepatch falls from his face, I feel my eyes widen as I take him in. 

He stares at me, bashful, with two working grey eyes, one normal and one glowing with a red sclera. The contrast of his grey iris and red sclera is alarming. I feel a headache rearing up in the back of my skull, but I fight it back, not wanting to miss anything he says.

“I was sick. This-this is what happens when you’re infected with the plague. I was…  _ dying. _ ” His apprehension turns slightly to amazed triumph. “But I did it, Marion! I found the cure, and it worked. That dungeon… it may hold more than just answers…"

"...it may hold the cure." I finish for him. I stare at him in awe. He did it. He actually did it. Something in me is absolutely ecstatic and proud of him. I don’t understand why, considering I’ve known him less than a week. Sometimes it’s best not to question the feeling and just go with it. I grab his face gently, he seems hesitant to let me but gives in. I examine his red eye, and he watches me, his unease evident in his wide eyes. “Fascinating…” I murmur. I haven’t actually seen anyone with the tell-tale signs of the plague, I’ve only heard about them. My head throbs and I wince, letting him go. “I-I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone surviving the plague once they’ve been infected.” I rub at my temples absentmindedly.

Julian replaces his eyepatch slowly, thinking. “I’m the only case that I know of. When the plague receded in Vesuvia no one was cured of it… it was more like people just stopped getting infected. If-if the incident with Lucio hadn’t happened, and I wasn’t accused of murder… I wonder if I would have been able to save anyone else…” He looks absurdly guilty, and he worries at the inside of his lip.

I grab his hand and smile at him. “You can’t blame yourself for being falsely accused, most likely forced into confession and having to flee for your life. Certainly can’t blame yourself for your amnesia, it was probably trauma induced… maybe even from the interrogation.” My gosh, what could they have done to him? I’ve heard of forced confessions… but never an instance that would cause trauma induced amnesia. 

“I have to find a way into that dungeon, Marion. If for nothing else, to at least get my cure. The Red Plague was harsh and relentless, it took many, many lives.” Julian says softly, looking down at his hand in mine. 

“You’re right. Of course. You’ll need to write a paper on it, describe it to the most minute detail so that it can be replicated…” I look up at him, wonder in my eyes. “If it came back somehow, your paper could save  _ countless _ lives.” 

He blushes deeply, but seems to have regained some of his confidence. 

“Oh, this is exciting.” I continue. “I can’t wait to watch you work. It would be like watching history in the making!”

“I-I don’t know about all that. Uhhhh,” Even his ears are red. “Erm, I well, l-let’s not get ahead of ourselves…” 

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” I muse, my headache is dulling now that I’m thinking of other things, things like continuing where we left off earlier, painting be damned at this point. 

He gives a startled yet coy smile. “As opposed to when I’m not?”

“No you’re cute then too.” I lean forward and kiss the smirk off his face. He turns the tables on me and doesn’t let me escape with just a quick peck. He secures my head in place by grabbing the nape on my neck and I try not to laugh as he kisses me. It takes just a moment for us to forget the humor and engross ourselves in the feel of each other. 

His hold on me turns gentle, and he threads his fingers into my hair, his other hand snaking up my side and resting on my ribs. I grab his collar again and tug him closer, my reach not being as long as his, and I grab the hair on the back of his head. His curls are thick and soft and I run my fingers through them loosely. 

He hums into my mouth, “Pull… my hair.” I startle for a second but smirk as I oblige him. Oh, this could be fun. As I put the tension on his hair, he straight up moans into my mouth and changes his angle to push into the kiss more aggressively. I push back, tugging harder. He practically melts in my grasp. If he likes this, then maybe…

I pull his hair hard enough to break the kiss with a pop, he submits to my pulling and leaves a nice long line of neck exposed. His face is red, his mouth panting. I watch the tendons in his neck strain as he takes shallow breaths. I eye my target, the long line of thick muscle leading up behind his ear and I latch on with an open mouth kiss. He sucks in a breath and tilts his head to allow me more access. I suck lightly on the skin there, testing the waters.

“Don’t… d-don’t be afraid to mark me.” He says, I hear his words more as a rumble through his chest than air vibrations to my eardrum. Oh, right… his “curse” will heal it. I wonder…

I bite him hard, suckling at the mark quickly after.

“M-Marion--” he moans. I lean back to watch the show. A very, very dim flash of the sigil, and the bite is disappearing. I watch in rapt fascination. “Don’t take that personal.” I look up to his eye and he’s watching me, head still tilted at the angle to allow me access. 

I grin at him. “I’m not, I’m just watching. It’s fascinating.” I dive back down to bite again. 

He gives a choked garble of a sound and shudders. He reaches out to steady himself with the bars from the platform. I giggle, his skin between my teeth, his body shudders once more. I lean back again to watch, this time I also take in the look on his face. The bite slowly disappears, and he’s red all over, lip between his teeth, eyes hazy and unfocused. It’s a beautiful sight. “Fascinating. I could watch you all day.”

He laughs with an amused huff. I finally let go of his hair so he can look at me without straining. “You really do think it’s fascinating, don’t you?”

I grin, “Not it, Julian. You. You’re fascinating.”

His eye widens, and he stammers over his words. “I-I-I uuuhhh, ah, um, well--” I cut him off with another kiss, and he seems thankful and leans into it with a jittery chuckle. 

“Marion, Devorak! Do you think you could unsuction yourselves for a moment and give us a hand?” Saffron bellows up at us. We break apart with a start and look down to see half the production crew, and several actors looking up at us with amused expressions. 

“Geez,” I groan, putting my forehead to Julian’s chest to hide my blush. “Can’t we get any privacy?”

“There’s no privacy in theatre!” Saffron scolds. 

Julian chuckles into my hair. “You said so yourself didn’t you?” I glare up at him. He gives me a cheeky smile. 

“Voyeurs! The whole lot of ya!” I growl down at them, and I’m met with a chorus of laughter. “Julian, take us down.” I grumble. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughs. 

As we hit the stage Saffron has walked up to us. “Devorak, we need an expert opinion. As Lucio’s former physician we need an opinion on Raphael’s performance. He swears up and down that he’s using the right accent for Lucio, but I think he’s over embellishing.”

Julian stares at Saffron for a second, completely confused. “Um, sure, happy to help.” He gives me a curious look, but I just smile and nudge him forward. 

Once Julian has walked out of earshot, Jansa grabs me by the collar and tugs me behind a prop wall. Jansa is a middle aged veteran actor, but sometimes his boyish antics make him seem younger than he is. “Is that really Doctor Devorak?” He breathes at me, eyes wide. 

I laugh, “Yep.” I look over Jansa’s attire and I’m hit with a realization. He’s wearing a billowy white shirt that’s half open, a black pair of pants and thigh high tall boots. In his hand is a makeshift black plague mask, of which I have to say is way more aesthetically pleasing than Julain’s actual plague mask. Wait… “They gave you the role of Doctor Devorak?”

He nods, looking nervous. “Now that I’ve seen him in person, I’m not sure I can… fill the role.” He blushes. I bark out a laugh. Jansa is my height, a mere 5’5’’, Julian has to be over 6 feet tall. 

“Maybe we can get you some stilts?” I say through my laughter.

“It’s not funny Marion!” He chastises me. 

Across the stage I can hear Raphael launch into his lines. “Wait up in my room? On  _ my _ birthday?? What do you expect me to do all night in here--” 

He’s cut off by Julian. “More nasally.” I look over to see Julian standing, watching Raphael intensely, hip cocked to the side and hand on his chin in thought. My eyes train up and down the long lines of his body. With no overcoat to block the view, I like what I see. “And a bit more petulant.”

“You see Saffron! I told you. You never heard Lucio speak. It sounds like an overdramatization but the man was just… high-class  _ trash _ .” Raphael says.

“Ok, again from the top.” Saffron orders.

Raphael launches into again, this time with real gusto. “Wait up in my room? On  _ my _ birthday?? What do you expect me to do all night in here? Clomp around in my hooves? Beg the busboy for table scraps? If I can’t disgust anyone doing it, what is the point?”

Julian is wildy clapping as Raphael finishes. “That’s fantastic, you sound just like him!”

Raphael beams with pride. 

“Okay,” Saffron tells Raphael, “When you’re right, you’re right.”

“Marion,” Jansa says to me, getting my attention again. “What am I going to do?” 

I give him a long look. “I really don’t think your height is going to matter that much. Just get his personality right. You’re a great actor, Jansa. You’ve got this.”

“...do you think if I asked him to give me some insight into  _ him _ that he would oblige?”

“Absolutely.” I turn back to the rest of the group and lead Jansa over to them. “Julian, Jansa here is playing you in the upcoming play--”

“He’s  _ what _ ?” Julian squeaks, eye darting between Jansa and me. 

“Look, don’t make this awkward. The people love retelling how they think Lucio’s death went down. Jansa here wants to portray you correctly, mind giving him some advice?” I push Jansa towards Julian. Jansa gives him a puppy dog pout.

Saffron laughs and slaps a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Jansa’s good, Devorak. He’ll give your character the best.”

Julian nods slowly, still bewildered, but I can see a glint of excitement in his eye. He and Jansa go off towards the back of the stage to find somewhere more quiet. I smile as I watch the two converse, it doesn’t take long for Julian to relax and the two are engrossed in their task. I jump from the stage and take a seat in the audience section, taking in the production. 

I hear a familiar clacking gait behind me and turn to see Linus walking down the aisle, pegleg clunking and echoing in the empty theatre. He’s looking around the stadium, like he’s looking for someone, so I raise my hand to hail him over. 

“Hey, old timer.” I greet him as he reaches me. He’s looking me over like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Hey Marion… good to see you’re doing well.” He looks a bit hesitant. 

“Sit down already, would ya? What brings you to the theatre?” 

“You, actually. I was looking for you.” He sits next to me, having just a bit of trouble with the folding seat. 

“Me?” I question as I help him sit. He nods.

Jansa’s voice springs up suddenly and I look over to see what he’s up to. “Bahahahaha!” He gives a very dramatic laugh, I see Julian shaking his head. He says a few things I can’t hear before he breaks into his own dramatic laugh. “Muhuhuhu…” Jansa mimics the laugh and I can’t help but smile slightly.

“Seems the Doc has been sticking around you. That’s good to hear.” Linus comments, also watching Julian and Jansa. “Marion…” he pauses, unsure of how to continue. 

“If you’re trying to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” I wave him off. “I did what I did, and I’d do it again a hundred times over.”

Linus gives me a sad smile. “I know. But that’s not what I was going to say. I came here to warn you.”

This gets my attention and I give Linus a long look. “Warn me… about what?”

“There’s rumor going around in the Red Market that someone has put a price on your capture.” 

“Wait, what? Why?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but they’re offering a pretty high amount. No one has accepted, yet. Of everyone I’ve talked to, no one seems to want to, but money talks as they say… It’s only a matter of time before they raise the amount enough for someone to walk back on their principals.”

I frown and go back to watching Jansa and Julian. It seems they’ve gotten some prop swords out and are comparing moves. “En garde!” Julian bellows. 

“En garde?” Jansa says unsure. He takes a quick look at me, and I nod to him. It’s a thing, he said it in my shop as well. “En garde!” He says with more umph, and Julian nods emphatically. 

I know from some of my run-in’s with people of whom I don’t remember that the Red Market was a normal stomping ground for my past self. I avoid it now, knowing that anything familiar can trigger headaches or worse. The people who peruse the not exactly legal market seem loyal towards me. Apparently, I had done some things back in the day that illicit that kind of steadfast respect. But they are also understanding of my absence and I suppose now, are looking out for my well being. 

“Do you know who?” I ask.

“No. Some of the guys are doing some digging, but they all come up short at Mistress Leopold’s.” He gives a tired sigh. “The Mistress doesn’t divulge her clients, though you can bet that it’s someone higher up on the social ladder.”

“No chance of it being Milova spice dealers then, yeah?” I quirk an eyebrow. 

Linus blanches, but he shakes his head. “If they were going to put a price on anyone, it’d be me. Though Milovan’s are known for dealing with their own troubles, not outsourcing them.”

“Any chance they might recognize me if I ran into them on the street?” 

“I doubt it, they probably think you’re dead. I know that dagger was poisoned.” He gives me a strange look.

I grin at him. “I own an apothecary shop Linus, and I work with magic day in and day out. You don’t think I can handle some poison?”

He nods reluctantly. “Between you and the Doc, I suppose anything is possible.” He seems more at ease with this knowledge. 

I take in a long breath and hold it for as long as I can, then release it slowly. “Okay, thanks for the heads up.”

“Least I could do, kid. You’ve saved my life on more than one occasion.” He pats my hand.

“More than one?” I raise my brows. He gives me a look, telling me not to dig too deep. “Ah, gotcha.” 

“I’ll let you know if I find anything else out.” He stands with a groan. I’m sure these theatre folding chairs aren’t the best on his old bones. Then again, he does like his stool at the Raven, that can’t be much better.

“Take care of yourself Linus.” I nod to him as he walks towards the main aisle. 

“You too, Marion.” I watch him leave, then turn back to the stage. Julian and Jansa have disappeared. I glance around but I don’t see them. Where did they go?

“Behind you.” A familiar sultry voice says into my ear and I turn to see a large black and gray beak peering down at me.

“Ack!” I jump away falling from the folding chair with a thud, and the chair vibrating quickly on it’s springy hinge. Voices from all over the theatre guffaw at my less than graceful ass plant onto the floor. I grumble and grab at the hand offered to me. I’m pulled up to come face to chest with Julian in the black plague mask Jansa had earlier. I smack at the beak, jarring it off kilter on his face, but he chuckles at me and rights it. 

“Seems you have a better reaction when you’re drunk, my dear.” Julian grins at me.

I pout. “Well, this mask isn’t as menacing as your other one.” I grumble.

“It’s not, is it.” He grins touching the beak. “This is definitely just a prop, judging by the dubious herbs they’ve placed in the beak.” 

I grin and sniff the beak. Oh, yeah, those are  _ definitely _ not state sanctioned herbs. 

“Was that Linus just now? What’d he want?” He removes the mask, ruffling his curls back into place.

I sigh. “He came to give me a warning.”

His eye widens. “Warning?”

I give him a dark grin, walking my fingers up his chest playfully. “What say you to ditching this joint and doing some investigating?”

He gives me a dark grin in return. “I’m always up for an adventure, you know.”

“Where are we going?” Julian asks casually as he follows me down the streets of Goldgrave. The streets aren’t too busy, and get less busy as we head to our destination. “Should I be dashing from shadow to shadow?” He pulls the end of his overcoat up to cover his forearm, using it as a cape to hide his face in a very dastardly, up to no good way. I laugh.

“You diabolical doctor you.” I tease, but this rewards me with a giddy smile from him. His time at the theatre has got his spirits up, it’s good to see him enjoying himself. We round a corner, buildings opening up the sky, leaving plenty of space for the very large round stone building just a couple of blocks away. The large arches leave strange looking shadows along the street leading up to it.

Julian’s expressive brows pinch together at the bridge of his nose. “The Coliseum?”

I nod, but don’t add any further information, I continue towards the building. He follows a few steps behind me, and I can hear him thinking out loud. “What could we possibly be looking for here? And why is it so quiet? This place used to be booming, the Count would always have some kind of event at  _ least _ once a week… Now it’s just… desolate. Not even the remnants of food vendors for the events.”

“Used to come to the events at the Coliseum?” I ask.

He pauses, “No, they weren’t my kind of shindig.” He says with distaste.

I snort. “There hasn’t been an event here since the Count’s death.” I supply. “No one comes here anymore, at least no one without criminal intent.” 

“Oh? Ooooooh… I see.” 

“Do you, now? Doctor Devorak, I wouldn’t have taken you for being a criminal.” I turn when I no longer hear his footsteps behind me. He’s stopped in the middle of the roadway, mouth agape. His expression sours as I laugh at him.

“I get it. Harharhar.” He mumbles, as he catches back up to me. “I’ll have you know, I was a card carrying member at the Red Market, on the VIP list even.” 

“Really? Then you know how to get in? I know of its existence, apparently I was once a regular, but I don’t remember now.”

“Then, my dear, allow me to get you the red carpet treatment.” He walks ahead of me now, his long legs easily letting him gain the lead. Somehow I doubt he can do what he says, but I can’t say I wouldn’t find it humorous if he did. We walk into a hallway within the stone building, Julian leading the way, and I have to say he does seem to have an idea of where he’s going. He comes to a stop in front of a brick wall between two columns, and here is where my confidence wanes. He starts to run his hands over the bricks, long fingers running along the creases of the brick. “Hrrm… Which one was it… two to the left, three right, up, up down…” He mumbles to himself and I watch with skepticism. 

“Julian?” I ask unsure.

“Aha! Got it! Now, don’t be too frightened Marion…” He takes a step back and gestures to the wall with a flourish. Nothing happens. I give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a second longer before I burst into laughter. Julian’s face lights up in a bright blush.

“Did I press the wrong brick…?” Then his expression sobers. “Did they take me off the list?” He seems put off by this, and he shakes his head morosely. 

I pat his shoulder in comfort. “Don’t worry, you’ve been gone for three years… maybe they thought you wouldn’t come back. I mean, you are wanted for murder so…”

“Hmm.” He agrees, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

Well, there has to be another way in. If this is the VIP entrance then there has to be another one for the non-members. I look around the hall, looking down and seeing footprints in the dust. I’m about to say we should follow them when a woman’s voice calls from down the hall.

“Jules, that you??” We both jump and whip our heads to look where the voice is coming from. Down the hall some ways, near the opening to the arena of the coliseum is an older woman who is now hobbling up to us, big smile on her face, large sack slung along her back. “Ain’t seen you in the city fer years, y’old dog! What’re you doin’ here, eh??”

Julian’s face lights up as he recognizes her, his body instantly relaxing. “Tilde! Good to see you. How’s the wife? Still having those headaches?”

She scoffs and waves off his concern. “She’s doin’ fine. Still goin’ ‘bout moving to Prakra. What’re we gonna do that for, they don’t have a leech market there…” She eyes me for a second, then sees where we’re standing. “Tryin’ ta get into the market, eh?” She chortles loudly, making Julian blush just slightly. “Won’t be gettin’ in that way.” She gestures to the arena, “There’s a trap door there, leads down. It’ll get ya where ya wantin’ to go.”

“Thank you Tilde, you came to save the day.” He smiles at her, he motions for me to take the lead. “Send my regards to Salema?” I begin my trek to the arena but I notice Tilde grabbing Julian’s arm, holding him back.

“Change of carrier Doc? Bounty huntin’ now?” She asks, trying to keep quiet but failing miserably.

Julian startles. “I--what? No, why?” I don’t even hide the fact that I’m listening. 

Tilde looks me in the eye and motions to me with her head, “Better be careful if yer takin’ her down.” I blush in embarrassment. She adjusts her sack and claps Julian hard on the back. “Good ta see ya, Jules.” She shuffles off, and Julian stares after her.

I walk back up to him to watch Tilde disappear around the corner. He looks over at me, confusion open on his face. “Care to tell me what that’s about?”

I try to act nonchalant, but my flush gives me away easily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Okay so… that’s what Linus came to talk to me about. Apparently, someone put a price on me.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “And you’re… what? Going into the lion’s den?”

I shift uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t put it that way… Linus said no one would take the contract. I came to find out who put the price up.”

“No one would… why? Not that it’s a bad thing, but why wouldn’t they take the contract?” He ushers me to the wall, now paranoid and looking about him, he blocks my line of sight of the arena, most likely to keep anyone who comes up out of the trap door from seeing me. 

“My past self has ties here in the Red Market. Seems I garnered some loyalty with the patrons, and they’re refusing to turn me in.” I shrug. 

His eye narrows as he takes in what I’ve said. “And now, you want to tempt those people, who, even with their best of intentions are opportunists as a rule, by dangling yourself right in front of their noses?”

“Uuuuhh…” Shit, I hadn’t thought of it like that. Who in their right mind would pass up capturing me when I’ve so conveniently offered myself. “Damnit, when you put it like that…” I mumble to myself. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I need to find out who and why. It can’t be a coincidence that someone on the higher social ladder has taken an interest in getting a hold of me, right after the Countess has hired me to find  _ you _ .” I poke his chest. “Or maybe it is, but either way, I can’t do my job if I’m constantly worried about being ambushed.”

“I don’t like this.” He says flatly.

I shrug, “Then don’t come with me.”

He stares at me like a fish out of water. 

“I’m going down there. Either come with me and have some fun, or kiss me for good luck and be on your way.” 

His eye squeezes shut and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “This must be my comeuppance, I get to feel what people have been dealing with with me for so long.” He lets out a tired sigh, and I grin mischievously. I’ve won, we both know it. “Alright, but one condition.”

“Depends on the condition.” I counter. He eyes me but continues.

“You don’t remember anything from your past in the Red Market.” I nod to confirm. “Let me take the lead then, I know my way around. And if you start to feel weird, or a headache starts, games over and we’re out.”

I blanch, it has been a concern of mine with going into a place that may hold a lot of past memories, but how does he know about my headaches? “Who told you about…?”

“Saffron.” He answers. He looks pretty serious, time to change that. I reach up and peck him quickly on the lips. 

“Deal. Now, let's go have fun.” I dash around him and sprint for the trap door.

It doesn’t occur to me until after I’m down the ladder, panting, waiting for Julian to reach the bottom, that maybe it might not be safe for him down here either. I glance around the underground tunnel, red lighting keeping the place dark, hazy incense making the air heavy. I see shadows mill about, muttering amongst each other. The nearest of the shadows lowly negotiating the price of a twilight dream frog. 

No one seems to have noticed or cared that two more customers have entered the market. Once Julian’s feet touch the stone floor I’m dragging him into a dark corner, my eyes must be as wide as saucers.

“Dragging me into the shadows already, Marion? We only just got here.” He’s looking at me unsure of what to make of my action, though he seems to settle on flirtation. He grabs my waist and waggles his brows at me. I suppress a laugh and slap his chest. 

“No, it’s just… you think you’ll be okay down here? I was so intent on getting here, I didn’t think about you being recognized or turned in…” Though that hasn’t been an issue thus far, I swear it seems the city’s population doesn’t give a damn about him being wanted by the palace. 

He gives a low chuckle. “That’s not really on anyone’s agenda down here. Who wants the whole place crawling with guards?”

I bite my lip. “What if there’s a bounty on you too?”

“I’d imagine Linus would have warned us about that, if there was a back door bounty, yeah?”

“Good point.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around. I used to get all kinds of medical supplies from here.” He leads me back out into the main part of the market, easily zigzagging around the other patrons of the market. 

“Medical supplies?” 

“Of course. When it comes to medicine, there isn’t always time to waste on gentler treatments. When you’ve got to get the most effective stuff you can find… go underground.” He gives a dark smile and bends down to talk low in my ear. “Forbidden leeches. Their suck strength is incredible. It’s a real tug of war getting them off.” This skeeves me out a little bit, but I hide it from Julian. 

“Tilde said something about leeches…” I say instead, trying to keep him talking while I get past the feeling. 

“Ah, yes. I’ve gotten many leeches from Tilde. She always had the best. I imagine she still does.” We make our way among the throng of people, no one seeming to pay us any mind. “Any idea of where to start?”

“I need to find a Mistress Leopold.” Her name on my lips gives me a few questioning looks from the patrons. 

“Hmm, name doesn’t sound familiar. I always came down here for a purpose however, so you’ll have to forgive me for not knowing her.” He looks a bit sheepish.

“It’s okay Julian, just show me around what you do know, and maybe we’ll still find a lead.”

With a hand on my lower back, he guides me and we walk slowly down the market, following the milling traffic of dark shadows wheeling and dealing. We pass a stall with a large amount of small bamboo cages, which upon closer inspection I see are filled with locusts, of all sizes and colors. That’s… odd.

We have to walk wide of another stall, steam billowing out from it’s canopy. Large pots of boiling liquid sputtering dangerously, but the smell coming from them is delicious. Meats of all kinds hang from the canopy beam. I can feel my stomach waking up from the smell, it churns with a low rumble that hopefully only I can hear. 

I’m struck almost dumb when I see a large cat, and I mean a  _ large _ cat sitting imperiously behind another stall, metal collar glinting in the red light. I know this creature, I’ve read about them before but I can’t recall what it’s name is… It eyes me with a bored demeanor, it’s golden fur more of an orange due to the lighting, spots mark it’s fur all over, except it’s face, where two thin lines of black run from its eyes running down it’s snout, almost like a streak of running eyeliner. 

“That’s new…” Julian mumbles next to me, also having spotted the cat. “I’ve never seen a cheetah down here before.” He shakes his head as he makes sure we give the animal a wide berth. “Majestic animals such as that should be free to roam and hunt, not chained as pets.” 

A cheetah… yeah that sounds right. I take a final glance at the animal as we continue on. 

“Have you seen a cheetah in the wild?” I ask, he looks down at me in surprise.

“No, that’s my first time seeing a cheetah alive. I’ve seen their pelts before, sold in exotic markets, I think it was in Prakra. I could be mistaken. I have come face to face with a lynx before. They look strange with their short tails and--” He stops short, grabbing the crook of my elbow. His eyes are alight with curiosity. “What have we here…”

I follow his vision to see a few stalls away from us, a dark doorway, above it swinging on two gnarly looking meathooks is a sign that reads “Jagged Dagger”. There’s a loud commotion from within, a man is thrown through the doorway with a snarl. His head hits the cobblestone so hard his glass eyeball pops out of socket and rolls down the path towards us. I stare at the eye as it bounces between the creases of the stones, mouth open in shock. Next to me I feel more than hear Julian chuckling. 

The man jumps up to his feet, sways slightly then follows his eye with a grumble. He grabs it before it reaches us, spits on it, then pops it back in. He glares at me with his working eye, a chocolate bloodshot eye, then spins and re-enters the tavern. 

“The Jagged Dagger, huh?” Julian says, voice full of intrigue. I look up at him, and I’m not sure if it’s just the thought of going in there or the look on my face, but he gives me a winning bad boy smile. “This is my kind of place. What do you say?” He tilts his head to the door, eyes glinting. “Let’s get a drink, maybe a bite to eat? I heard your stomach earlier…” I blush. “Besides, I can’t pass on a chance to get rowdy.”

I glance at the door, barely holding onto it's hinge, swinging just slightly, momentum dying. What the hell, why not? Taverns are great places to get information anyway, it's doubtless Julian is thinking the same thing. Besides, it's been a while since I've had a black eye. I turn back to Julian, mischievous grin twitching from excitement.

"I'm in, let's do this." I head towards the door. Behind me, Julian swoons dramatically and follows close as I push the door in.

"Oh, you spoil me, my dear." He murmurs in my ear. I shiver, but I grin at him all the same.

The pub is alive with chaos. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the low lighting, and I struggle to comprehend what's happening before me. The air is thick with sweat and ale, maybe just a touch of salt water and fish. Bodies are everywhere, sitting at tables, draped over counters, passed out on the floor. One poor soul is literally tied to a barrel. In the far corner is an arm wrestling match between two ugly hairy brutes, spectators betting and cheering. I find the seadog with the glass eye, holding down and wailing on another seadog, the punches landing with thick meaty sounds.

With a steady hand on my lower back Julian leads me up to the bar. We approach a table littered with empty shot glasses that are scattered to the floor as one patron sweeps another across the table, making him land in a heap upside down against the bar. Julian steps over him, hardly noticing, and helps me avoid the man. 

He's nodding his head, looking about with an appraising eye. "Mhm, lively energy, lots of movement… I love it." He turns to me, "Think they can fix a good drink?"

I shrug, "Only one way to find out." I walk up to the bar, glancing at the bottles behind the counter. Sitting on a stool next to me is a scraggly looking woman, dressed in tatters, holding a thick glass of something that is so strong I can smell it from here. Surely, that drink could strip paint. She downs it in one swallow, her face contorts, a gurgling sound coming from the back of her throat before she collapses off her stool stiff as a board. 

Wow.

"What'll it be Marion?" Julian asks, idly peeking over my shoulder.

I turn to the barkeep, "I'll have what she's having."

"Oooh, Marion," Julian coos next to me. "I could just die." The look of excitement and appreciation on his face makes me smirk. He turns to the barkeep, "Make that two." He fishes out a gold coin from his purse, which I notice is decorated with black feathers. I wonder if those are Malak's. He slides the coin to the barkeep, who is eyeing us with narrowed eyes. "Keep the change. Great atmosphere in here." 

The barkeep scoops up the coin and goes about preparing our drinks. Julian leans on the counter leisurely, watching. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know how to get a hold of the mysterious Mistress Leopold, hm?"

The barkeep thumps our drinks onto the counter, his eyes flit back and forth between the two of us, his eyes lingering on me long enough to notice. "Ne'er heard of 'er."

I let loose a quick unnerving bark of laughter and slam my hand harshly on the counter. "Cut the shit." I growl at him, his eyes widen slightly in surprise, Julian looks down at me with shock. "I need to speak with her, where can I find her?"

He narrows his eyes at me, but he nods towards a doorway with a ratty red curtain. "Ask Tabitha, she'll know. She's wit a customer now, she'll come out soon."

I nod, satisfied with that and I grab my drink. "We'll take two of your house specials as well." I pull out my own coin and flick it at him. He catches it easily and nods.

"Good ta see some things dun change, no matta wut." He gives me sneer that could be interpreted as a smirk and heads to the back kitchen. I stare after him a moment, my head clouding. 

"Let's find a seat then, shall we?" Julian says grabbing his drink. I nod and follow him as he scans the room for a table. 

There's a loud commotion from the back, looks like someone won the wrestling match, and now fists are flying, money and glass falling to the floor with a crash. Several patrons dash from their seats to jump into the fray, clearing up a table in the corner near Tabitha's doorway.

"Well, well, would you look at that." Julian smiles, "After you." 

We sit, Julian swiping the empty tankards away to another table. I watch amused, he barely has to reach to set the tankards on the other table with his long ass limbs. He leans back in his chair across from me, legs spread wide and he surveys the room with a fondness in his eye.

"You spend a lot of time in places like this?" I ask, sniffing my beverage. My vision swims from just smelling it. 

He laughs, looking over at me. He leans his elbow on the table, his smirk is dark. "Not many other places to go when you're wanted for murder. Not much other entertainment than a good bar brawl."

I hum my understanding. I brace myself then down my drink. It burns the whole way down making my eyes water, I slam the tankard down and groan. That's even worse than a Salty Bitters. Julian smirks at me and downs his. I'm pleased to see his eye water a bit, though he doesn't seem as affected by it. 

The barkeep comes over tossing two bowls of some kind of disgusting looking gruel in front of us and a half loaf of stale bread. "Tastes better 'tan it looks." He grumbles at us. We nod our thanks. 

My stomach burns with the alcohol, but it courses through my veins making my muscles relax. I bring a tentative spoonful of the gruel to my mouth. Julian watches me, unsure. 

My brows shoot up as I taste it. "It's not bad." I say, motioning for him to try his. He looks dubious. 

"You're braver than I, my dear." He pushes the bowl away from himself. I smirk and take another spoonful. If I don't eat this, I'm going to be fucking  _ wasted _ . That drink was stout. 

Suddenly the red curtain is drawn quickly, loudly. A man stumbles out, fixing his clothes, a satisfied look on his face. I frown and watch the doorway as a woman comes out and leans against the doorframe adjusting her breasts in her bodice. She gives Julian a cursory glance and her full lips contort into an interested smile. 

"You up next handsome? With a face like yours, you get a discount." She says with a sultry tone. 

Julian looks up at her, his face blazing red. "I-I… what?" 

Jealousy flares in my gut and anger makes me shoot to my feet. "I'm next, actually." I say without thinking. Am I propositioning a prostitute? Oh my Marion...

She looks disappointed and pulls her gaze from Julian who is absolutely sputtering and twitching, unsure of what to do. She looks over to me and stills, eyes widening. "Marion…" she breathes. She glances again at Julian, this time with suspicion, she lurches forward, grabs my hand and tugs me into the doorway, the curtain swishes closed behind me.

~Brief Interlude~

Julian stared at the curtain as it swayed, watching it until it stopped. Did what he think just happened, happen? Did Marion just hire a prostitute? His hands felt numb, the drink definitely helped with that. His mind wandered lewdly to what could be happening behind that curtain and he flushed, fire running through his veins. The drink helped with that too. 

Surely, surely, what his drink addled mind is thinking is happening isn't happening. Marion is probably in there asking this Tabitha questions about getting to Mistress Leopold. Surely.

...right? He swallowed hard. As casually as he could, he leaned his ear against the wall, trying to hear past the noise of the pub. He could just barely make out two voices.

"Ah, Jules, don't be a pervert." A voice says to his left. He jumps in his seat, sputtering again, blush heating up his face, chest and ears. He looks over to see a familiar older man. It takes him a moment to remember who it is. The man sits in Marion's seat and laughs at Julian with good humor.

"Trabor?" Julian squeaks, then clears his throat. 

"Aye, Jules, good to see ya, boy." Trabor smiles, he's missing a few teeth, but it doesn't distract from his handsome features despite his age. "What brings you back to Vesuvia? A death wish?" He laughs, but it's good natured. Julian relaxes and smiles at him.

"Got tired of running, Trabor." 

"I see. And here I was hoping you'd be reopening your clinic." The elder man sighs.

Julian laughs and shakes his head. "What would give you that idea? Other than a hope for steady business?"

Trabor's grey brows shoot up. "Well, you were talking to Marion Casteel, so I had assumed you were looking into garnering steady medical supplies. Unless…" His eyes take on a hard look, he regards Julian with a critical eye. "You're not planning on turning her in are you?" 

The pub goes eerily quiet suddenly, faces from all over the pub turn to face Julian. He glances around, eyes darting to each face, unease settling in his stomach. Even the man tied to the barrel is glaring at him. 

"Um, uuuh, n-no. I'm not." He says thickly.

"Then why are you looking for Mistress Leopold?" Trabor counters, though now he seems more amused than stern.

"M-Marion wanted to find her. She wanted to know who would put a price on her." His eye still darts around looking at the faces, less angry now, but still ominous. "L-Linus came and warned her, but Marion… she insisted. I-I couldn't let her come alone, so I escorted her here."

The noise in the pub, as quickly as it had died, stirred back up like nothing had happened. Julian was immensely unnerved by this. 

Trabor smiles again, he looks relieved. "Good to hear, boy. I didn't want to see you disappear." He laughs, and Julian laughs uneasily with him. "I take it she doesn't remember still?"

"Yeah… so try not to--"

"We got it, Jules. We've been watching from the sidelines. I guess, maybe we all just hoped… but it seems it's just not meant to be." Trabor sighed. "At least… at least you found her. I'm sure Miranda, rest her soul, is pleased that both of your hard work paid off. She's alive and safe, missing memories are a small price to pay." 

Julian's brows pinch together. What was Trabor going on about? He said Miranda… Miranda was Marion's twin sister, right? What did Miranda have to do with him? His head flared with pain, but he fought it off. "Trabor…" he has so many questions, but he doesn't want to give away his missing memories. It's too hard to explain to people, and they never believe him anyway. "What's Marion have to do with medical supplies?" Maybe this question would lead to other answers, it was a shot in the dark, but he had to try.

Trabor looks shocked, but laughs it off. "I guess no one ever told you, huh? Miranda probably didn't know either. Marion always did try to keep her illegal activities from her sister, kept saying Miranda deserved better." He shakes his head, fondly. "All those medical supplies you used to buy from me, Marion was my supplier." His cloudy blue eyes glisten with memories. "When the Red Plague hit, and the palace and nobles started hoarding all the medicines and such, Marion smuggled in supplies. Or stole them from the palace shipments. She saved a lot of lives."

Julian's jaw went slack. "I had no idea…"

"No worries, Jules." He reaches across the table and slaps Julian's shoulder. "Just keep her safe, yeah?"

He nods. “She may not remember all of you, but she knows about you. I have a feeling she’s thankful for all of your care.” He looks about the pub, a few people raise their glasses in cheers. “This is wild, I had no idea she was so loved by everyone. Not surprised though.”

“She’s a good kid, like you.” Trabor smirks. Julian blushes. “Don’t think for a second that no one turning your ass in is just coincidence, boy. Vesuvia’s people take care of the people that take care of them.”

“T-thanks Trabor,” he nods about the room, “Everyone.” 

The barkeep comes over with two more drinks setting them on the table. “On the house.” He says. 

Trabor smiles and stands, “I’ll let you get back to eavesdropping Jules, though I’m sure they’re not doing what you think they are.” He winks at him. Julian is pretty sure his blush is what is lighting the room at this point. 

There’s an angry screech coming from Tabitha’s room, furniture crashing about, then a woman’s frame is pushed through the curtain tearing it from the rod. The whole pub stills as Marion stands up from her prone position on the floor, her clothes are ripped and dishevelled, her shoulder length brunette hair matted as if it had been pulled, three long angry lines run down her left cheek, but she’s smirking with a dangerous sneer.

“Cheap shot, bitch. Come at me now, I’m ready for you.” She growls.

~Interlude End~

The room is dark, though I’m not sure why I’m surprised. This is a brothel room, right? You don’t really need to see what you’re doing to get the job done… Tabitha is still holding my hand, squeezing it actually, with a vice grip. 

“So…” I lead in, “You know my name, so introductions don’t seem to be necessary.” I blush, and I’m thankful for the darkness. She tugs on my hand, and I’m enveloped in an embrace. 

“Oh Marion, it’s so good to see you.” She sighs into my ear, she’s a touch shorter than I am. She pulls away, holding me at arms length. “Hold on, let me light a candle, I need to get a look at you.

I’m starting to think this is more of a reunion of sorts than a proposition. The candlelight gives the room just enough lighting to see a shelf, a rumpled bed and a stool. There’s a door in the back leading somewhere else. 

“That man out there… he’s not trying to turn you in right?” She asks, her eyes glowing with the candlelight. They’re a deep golden color, her hair a light pinkish tint. 

I snort. “No. If he had his way, we wouldn’t be down here at all.” 

She smiles, she’s pretty, maybe needs a good bath, but still pretty. “Good. Would be a shame to have that handsome face smashed in.” She grabs my shoulders again, giving me a once over. “You’re looking good Marion, healthy.” She pinches at my belly, “Maybe a little  _ too _ healthy.” She laughs as I frown. Did she just call me pudgy? 

“I’m sorry… Tabitha, right? I don’t mean to be rude but I--”

“I know, I know. You don’t remember me. It’s been hell keeping my distance for the last three years, but…  _ You _ came to  _ me _ , so shut your damn face for a second and let me enjoy your company.” She tugs me back into a hug. Oh boy, oh no. What is she to me? What is she expecting? What do I do? 

The hug doesn’t last long, and with panic surely written all over my face she just laughs and releases me. She motions for me to sit on the stool. She sits on the bed and looks back at me. “I take it Pops got the message to you?” She asks, my brain tries to keep up, it’s muddled and confused, cloudy and a little painful. 

“Pops?” I ask.

She laughs, “It’s so weird talking to you when you don’t remember shit. Linus, silly, my pops.”

“Linus has a daughter?!” I choke out, eyes wide, I look her over again. “No way, you’re way too damn pretty to be his offspring.”

“ _ Granddaughter _ .” She corrects me. She moves some hair from her face and I notice her thumbs. They’re short and plump, like Linus’s. Maybe they really are related. She shares nothing else of his that I can see though. 

“Then… yes, he did.” I say finally.

“And, just in true Marion fashion, you drag your dumbass down into the den rather than keep away. Fucking figures. I guess people really are who they are, no matter what.” She sighs but leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I don’t know who put out the contract. Miss Leo isn’t talking.”

She must really have known me in the past, most people don’t just assume I’m a dumbass at first. I try to force myself to relax, but my head is starting to pound. “Can you lead me to her? I need to know.” 

“Absolutely not. You’re insane. If she sees you, she’ll claim the bounty in a heartbeat.”

“Why? Is the bounty pretty high?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s high alright. Someone  _ really _ wants your ass. But I have a feeling it would be more for a power grab on Leo’s part.”

“So, someone powerful then?”

“Has to be, if they have that kind of cash.” She shrugs. “Who have you pissed off recently?” 

I snort. “I like how you just assume I’ve pissed someone off.”

“Marion,” She says to me deadpan. “It’s you. You’ve pissed someone off. Be real.”

Damn, she really must have known me. I smile, it’s weird but not unwelcome. Everyone else avoids my past like the plague, it’s refreshing to have someone talking to me with familiarity. “Well, it can’t be anyone  _ that  _ powerful. I mean, I’m working for the Countess right now, she’s about as high as it gets.”

“The Countess? Well, well. Moving up in the world. Didn’t think I’d ever see you working for ‘the man’.” She sneers slightly. 

That look on her face makes me burst into laughter. “She’s ‘the woman’, technically. But I’m not doing a very good job. She ordered me to find and capture Doctor Devorak--”

“The guy who killed Lucio? Why the hell would you  _ take _ that job! He’s a hero!”

“Well, like I was saying… I’m not good at it, he’s sitting out at the table now, and I’m not about to turn him in.”

“He’s…” her face flushes. “Oh my, that handsome guy is Devorak? Oh, he’ll  _ definitely _ get a discount now!” She stands. “You and him a thing? If not I’m going out there…”

I choke and stand as well, blocking her way. My face is surely ablaze.

“Ah, Marion you’re so cute. Alright, I’ll leave him be. But you better get on that, I won’t wait forever.” She winks at me and I cough. “You always were shy with the ones you actually liked.”

I twitch my hands, not knowing what to do. I want to ask a question, but I also don’t want to offend her, or send myself into a coma. “Was…” I clear my throat. “Was I a… a…” I motion to the bed. “N-not that I would be opposed to it? Or think it’s wrong? I just… uh…” I stop, she’s got a huge smile on her face, visibly fighting to keep from laughing at me.

“No.” She finally chokes out. “No, you were never a prostitute. That’s my profession. You were always a cheat and a thief.” I frown, and she sobers. “Always for a good purpose. You had your reasons. Rob the rich, feed the poor kind of thing.” She smiles fondly at me. “‘Marion and her morals’, everyone would say. You kept the rest of us more honest.”

I smile back tentatively. None of this is ringing a bell to me. Probably for the best. It does feel good to have some kind of background for myself. 

“Listen, Tabitha, I really need to see Mistress Leopold.”

The back door opens and a tall lanky woman enters with a sigh. “Tabby, shift’s over.” She says with a tired voice. She looks up from her satchel, tucking her keys in. We make eye contact, her hazel eyes widen. Tabitha stiffens next to me, my eyes dash to her, taking in her alarm. Uh oh.

The screech is loud and alarming. I turn back to the woman and she’s on me like lightning. She nearly tackles me and the stool goes skittering across the room. She grabs my hair, I grab her arms to fight her off. Her nails rake across my face, my eyes water from the pain, I hear some of my clothing tear. She has an advantage on me, she’s taller and caught me unawares. She forces me back and pushes me through the curtain, I try to grab a purchase but manage to only pull the curtain down with me. 

Suddenly I’m on the floor of the pub, the silence from the crowd deafening. I stand calmly, glaring into the doorway, where the woman is glaring back at me, chest heaving. 

“Cheap shot, bitch. Come at me now, I’m ready for you.” I sneer at her, raising my hands up, curling my fingers into fists.

“You’re the bitch… bitch!” She screams at me, charging. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead I ready my fist, planning my take down punch. I side step her claws, and give her a wicked right hook. She slams into the bar counter, I dance around her, fists still raised and ready. She holds the side of her face and glares up at me through her blonde hair. “Fuck you, Marion.”

“ _ Gloria _ !” The barkeep yells, rounding the counter. He reaches down to help her up, but she pushes him away. 

“M-Marion?” Julian says stutters behind me. I ignore him, and keep my eye on Gloria. 

My assailant stands slowly, Tabitha hovers around the door frame, hands over her mouth not knowing what to do. 

“Get away from me Jeb,” Gloria growls as the barkeep stands between us. “I’ve been waiting three years to fuck her up, I’m not missing this opportunity!” She grabs the knife Jeb had been using to carve things into the counter and she rushes me. 

Oh, shit, this bitch means business! I avoid her first slash, but she recovers quickly and slashes again. She grazes my left forearm as I use it as a shield, I hiss from the sting. I ready to connect my fist with her face again. Jeb grabs Gloria from behind and pulls her away and Julian steps in front of me as I’m making my swing. I clock him along his jaw and he staggers back, shock and awe on his face. This shakes me from defense mode and I stare at him, shock also seizing me. 

“Julian!” I cry, and rush him, grabbing his face. He looks at me with admiration, and cracks a smile at me. 

“Nice hit, Marion. Made me see stars.” He stretches his jaw, rubbing along the growing red mark on his face. We don’t have much time to recover before Gloria breaks free of Jeb and charges us. 

Oh fuck. I try to push Julian out of the way, but he’s too heavy and sturdy. Gloria tackles us and we all three fall against the tables in a heap. I try to untangle myself from the other two’s crazy long limbs. Julian grunts in pain, and I gasp. 

“Well… is it all out of your system now?” He asks the woman on top of him. She’s shaking like a leaf, hands trembling and barely clutching the knife that is now sticking out of Julian’s side. She stares at it with wide hazel eyes, and she screeches and jumps away as blood begins to gush from the wound. 

“Gloria!” Jeb grabs her again as she starts to weep. 

Julian looks down at the knife, bending as best as he can to examine his injury. He groans in pain as he grabs the handle.

“J-Julian, no! You’ll make it worse!” I say on instinct, kneeling next to him, my hands hover over his, not sure if I should try to stop him. 

He gives me a light hearted grin before he grits his teeth and yanks the knife out in one swift clean motion. I stare at him in shock. Groans erupt from all around the room, everyone watching. He groans too, but he bites his lip and gives me a hooded look. 

Oh my god, he’s enjoying this. Like… like  _ enjoying this. _ Oh, you kinky bastard. 

“What? Don’t look at me like that.” He says shyly. I can’t help but shake my head at him and help him stand. He leans over me and whispers in my ear. “Come on, Marion. We should go before I frighten someone.” I nod, not sure of what else to do. “Ah,” he pauses and reaches back to grab his glass, both glasses refilled. “Let’s not be wasteful.” He gives me a saucy look before he downs the drink, making a show of it. 

Everyone gasps and steps away as his drink spills from his wound and runs down his leg. I stare at the scene uncomprehending. Oh damn it, this man is going to be the death of me. I grab my own drink then and take a long pull, I shudder and slam it back down. My face is burning with alcohol and embarrassment. “Let’s go you masochist.” I mumble, pushing him towards the door. He grins and groans in response, making my ears burn with more embarrassment. I push him out of the door and back into the street of the Red Market. 

I tug him into a dark corner, wanting to make sure he’s okay, and that his sigil is healing him but the look on his face is so dark, sultry and incorrigible my instincts take over and I shove him against the wall, claiming his lips with my own. He groans into my mouth and curls around me, I touch his wound and feel that the bleeding has stopped, so I push on it slightly and he shivers with delight, moaning into my mouth this time. I can’t help but smile. I lean back and make sure I see the glow of his sigil from under his collar. I rest my head on his chest and I start to laugh, maybe from adrenaline, maybe from the humor of the whole thing, I’m not sure.

“That was fun,” he murmurs into my ear. “We should get rowdy more often.” I laugh louder and slap his chest, he shakes with his own laughter. 

“Is this the type of shit you do for fun?” I ask, suddenly tired. 

“This and other…  _ things _ .” He says, voice low. I have a feeling I know what the other ‘things’ are. I keep my head down to hide my blush. Oh, this man is  _ doing things _ to me. I reach up and straighten his overcoat, I run my fingers along the wrinkles. He runs his fingers through my mussed up hair, attempts to put the sleeve of my shirt back over my shoulder but it just falls away. He gives up quickly. 

“You okay?” I ask, finally recovered enough to look back up at him. His eye is bright as he watches me.

“Never better,  _ draga. _ ” He rumbles. “Were you able to get the information you needed?”

I groan and lower my head back to his chest. “No.” I lament. “And I have a feeling I’m not going to get it. This whole trip has been a bust. I’m so sorry.”

I feel him take his glove off from behind my back and he touches my face. I see the sigil flare again, I feel the sting on my face subside, the burn of the laceration on my arm ebb away. “No harm done.” I look up and he smiles at me.

“Damn that’s handy.” I mumble. “Are you sure it’s a curse?”

He laughs, “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC's! OC's EVERYWHERE! Mwaha. Ahem... Yeah. 
> 
> Stay safe and stay sane everyone. I'll try too.


	8. Vagrant Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains blood and gore.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains smut. Honestly, it's my first attempt at it. Be merciful. I had always intended this story to have some kind of scene, but I debated it because of the way I'm writing it I felt that it might not fit. But~ I think I did okay.

I watch Julian’s retreating form, standing on the stoop of the shop’s entrance. He walked me home after the events in the Red Market and I told him to flee before Saffron got here, lest he be given the brunt of the impending lecture. He’s made it to the end of the street, and he turns back to look at me. He seems startled that I haven’t gone inside and he shoos at me, I smile and run my fingers along the runes, putting my key in the lock. I look back and he’s gone. I sigh, today’s been a long day, but an interesting one. The next few days should prove to be interesting too. 

Asra should be back sometime tomorrow or tomorrow night. I can’t wait to see the interactions with him and Julian. Asra will also most likely be livid with my relationship with him. At least, I think it’s a relationship, right? It seems mutual. I frown. I guess I’ll figure that out in the days to come as well. It’s no rush anyway, and I have to get Nadia to claim him innocent if I really want it to go anywhere. So, I’ll just be satisfied with what I have at the moment. I turn the key in the lock and enter the shop. 

The sight that greets me doesn’t compute in my brain. There’s a single candle lit in the middle of the shop floor illuminating a horror scene of blood, cloth and fur. Large chocolate brown eyes filled with tears look up at me, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s Saffron. They are covered in blood, their whole body shaking, a strangled noise is coming from them, and I realize it’s them sobbing. 

“Marion, Marion-- help me  _ please _ , the bleeding won’t  _ stop _ !” They sob at me. 

I’m frozen in place, shock locking my muscles. I look down at the mass next to them, large gaping wounds run across a muscled chest, the green cloak matted a dark brown from blood. The mass is chillingly still. It’s not until a cold snout touches my hand and I look down to see Inanna whine at me, blood matting her fur from her own wounds that I snap out of it.

Muriel.  _ Fuck that’s Muriel.  _

“Saffron, what--” I dash and slide on my knees through the large puddle of blood that’s starting to congeal on the shop floor. 

“I-I-I don’t  _ know! _ ” Saffron wails, muscles twitching as they hold a towel to Muriel’s chest doing their best to put pressure on the wounds, but there are so many. “I came in to wait for you to come back and-and-and--!”

“Okay, okay, shh. You’re doing great, keep pressure on that one.” I look around at the blood soaked towels. “We need more, I’ll be back.” I jump up, slipping on the blood, but I catch myself and dash up the stairs. I grab clean shirts from the drawers and dash back down. I assess the damage and place the thickest shirts on the largest wounds. “Yarrow, I need yarrow leaves…” I jump back up, dashing to the shelves searching wildly, cursing us for not having an alphabetical system for our herbs. I finally find a bottle, and dash to the kitchen getting a bowl of water. 

“Muriel… oh Muriel…” Saffron sobs, “Hurry Marion!”

“I am! I’m trying!” I sob back, not realizing that tears are streaming down my face. I wipe them away, undoubtedly smearing blood all over my face and I concentrate on making the poultice to put on the wounds to stop the bleeding. With shaking hands I make makeshift bandages from the shirts, smearing them with the yarrow mash and I slap them on the wounds. 

Saffron looks up from Muriel’s face, their face so puffy from crying. “Where’s Julian? He’s supposed to be a doctor right? Why isn’t he with you?”

Julian. Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ Why didn’t I think of him? I stare at Saffron, unable to move. Damnit, I’m so  _ stupid. _ Why did I send him away? 

“Marion! Go get Julian!” Saffron screams at me.

“Right, yeah okay! Fuck!” I jump up and I’m out the door. I run faster than I think I’ve ever run before, panic and adrenaline fueling my legs. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Which way? Where would he go? A sob escapes my throat, I’m so  _ stupid _ . I shouldn’t have sent him away!

I round a street corner, nearly running into an apple cart. Somehow I manage to keep my pace. There’s no one in the streets, my eyes scan every inch of them, searching for that familiar black coat, or auburn hair. Pale skin.  _ Anything. _

“Julian!” I call out, my voice is weak from crying and running. “Julian!” Shit, did he even go this way? This road leads towards South End right? He couldn’t have gotten that far. Damn those long ass legs of his!

“ _ Julian! _ ” I scream at the top of my lungs. I run until I hit a barrier from one of the canals, I lean against it trying to catch my breath and trying not to panic and  _ where the fuck is Julian. _

“Marion?” I hear a voice call, I jerk my head up from my panting, and I scan the area. There.  _ There. _ Across the canal, his form comes rounding the corner, uncertain. “Marion?” He calls again. 

“Julian!” I call again and dash towards him. “Help, help me! Help us!” I pant. He’s jogging towards me too, until he sees the blood all over me. He speeds up and we crash into each other.

“Marion, Marion, where are you hurt, oh god, there’s so much blood!” He’s grabbing me all over, searching for injuries. I sob into his chest, so relieved that I found him, I can barely keep my feet. He easily holds me steady.

“N-not mine.” I breathe out. “Please, you have to save him! The shop, he’s in the shop!”

“Okay, let’s go.” He throws an arm around me, and holds me up until I’ve regained my feet and can run easily next to him. We reach the shop in no time, searching for him seemed so much longer than the run back. We burst through the door and Julian goes into doctor mode.

His gloves come off quickly, he kneels next to Saffron who’s sobbing so hard they can barely keep pressure on. “Saffron,” he says calmly. “Will you get me some fresh water? I’ve got it from here.” Saffron looks at him with wide eyes and nods almost imperceptibly. They stand and go into the kitchen. 

I watch in awe as he looks Muriel over, his hands quickly and surely move from one wound to the next, not even a tremor. He gingerly lifts my poultices, and looks at me. “What did you put on these?”

“Y-yarrow.” I sniffle. 

“Good job, Marion. Do you have any more?” He asks, looking back down and removing bandages. I nod, and head to the shelf. 

Saffron comes back with a large bowl of water, and sets it next to Julian. He looks back at me. “Do you have soap and alcohol?” I dash off to collect the items. 

Julian calmly cleans himself and then goes about cleaning Muriel’s wounds, his brow furrowed with concentration. I watch him in awe. Saffron comes to stand next to me, and we cling to each other while we await instructions. 

“Do you have a needle and thread?” He asks next. I dash off to collect. I grab a bowl and pour some alcohol in it, soaking the thread. He glances at me with surprise and nods his approval. I use the candle to heat the surface of the needle before I also throw it into the bowl. He nods his thanks and goes about preparing the wounds for stitches. “Saffron, I need you to cut the thread when I ask you to.”

Saffron jumps but follows his instructions on how to assist. 

“Marion, make some more yarrow poultices.”

“Okay.” 

Quickly and with what is probably a lot of practice, he stitches up the smaller wounds first. I apply the poultices on command. 

Finally he stares at the large gaping wound, the one that Saffron kept trying to apply pressure to. Luckily it’s not bleeding as bad, but it’s still weeping. He sighs with resignation, and looks over to me. 

Oh no. He’s not going to… My eyes widen. He gives me a winning grin. 

“Wait,  _ no _ Julian.” I kneel and grab his arms. “Think this through, can you even heal an injury this bad? Look, I know those are his… are his…  _ organs _ showing. Can you heal that?” My hands are shaking as I hold him. 

“No, but I hadn’t healed poison until you, so…” He smiles at me, breaking free of my grip to cup my face. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop if I think it’s too much.” I swallow hard, but nod, more tears welling up. I’m surprised I have any more to cry.

“What?” Saffron says softly. “What’s happening?”

“Shh,” I coo at them softly. “Just watch him.” I reach up to unbutton his waist coat. He gets my intention and helps me undress him from his coat and shirt. “This is going to hurt, Julian. Can I do anything for you?” I ask, kissing his bare shoulder lightly. 

He grins at me again, “No more tears?”

“Something realistic.” I choke out laughing and half sobbing. 

“Can I use your lap to lay on while I heal?” He asks blushing.

“Absolutely.” I smile and stand better positioning myself to place his head on my lap after the deed.

He looks over at Saffron, who is kneeling by Muriel’s head, wiping the sweat from his brow. His color has returned now, which gives me hope. “He’s going to be fine, Saffron, I promise.” Saffron looks at us confused, their eyes wide watching us.

Julian grimaces slightly before he places his hands on either side of the wound. "Here we go." 

The sigil flares brightly, Saffron gasps. I stare at the wound, waiting to see a change. Slowly the flesh starts to knit back together. I turn to look at Julian. His eye is closed in concentration. I glance back and forth until Julian's look turns into another grimace.

"Julian…"

"I'm fine, nearly done."

The wound closes. Julian sighs and slouches, I guide him to my lap. I wipe the sweat from his brow. A second that feels like a year goes by before his chest slices open and he groans loudly from the pain. I swallow back a scream as I watch him bleed out, see his beautiful chest marred by this magic. 

"Son of a  _ bitch _ ! What's happening? I don't understand…" Saffron is almost hyperventilating at Muriel's head. Muriel groans and opens his eyes. Saffron looks down and sobs with relief.

I pet Julian's hair, continuing to wipe the sweat from his brow, and then the blood from his mouth. I shush and coo at him as he groans and cries out from the pain. He reaches up and grasps my hand, I grip it back letting my fears for him manifest in my grip. 

It's a terrifying minute and a half of seeing no healing before it starts. And it's slow, so very, very slow. I bend down to look him in the eye and I pet the side of his face. "Not long now, darling." I whisper to him. "The healing has started." 

He half smiles, half grimaces. As the pain subsides, I can feel him relaxing onto my lap. He brings my hand to his mouth to pepper it with kisses, and this is how I know he's going to be alright. I shudder with a breath I didn't know I was holding and I weep silently above him. 

"Is he…?" Saffron asks softly.

"He's fine, or he will be. He needs to rest." I answer.

" _ Inanna. _ " I hear Faust say. I look up startled and see the lavender snake curled up around Inanna offering comfort. I hadn't seen her all day, I wasn't expecting to hear her now. " _ Inanna help. _ " Inanna whines softly.

"How bad is she Faust? Can I patch her up?" I ask.

" _ Maybe, maybe not. _ "

Julian stirs on my lap, he opens his eye and blearily looks around. "Is the wolf hurt too? Bring her here."

"Julian, no." I look down at him. "You've done too much already."

He grins and waves it off. "Her injuries couldn't be that bad. I'll live." He waves the wolf to him and she slowly limps over. He doesn't even look at her, he just touches her, the sigil flares, small wounds blossom and heal across his chest, arms and probably legs too though I can't see. They quickly heal with no trouble. Inanna licks his hand in thanks.

“How’s Muriel?” I ask, one hand on Julian and now one hand on Inanna. 

“I’m fine.” Muriel croaks. My eyes shoot to him, making eye contact with large forest green eyes and I shudder with relief. 

“Bullshit.” Saffron mumbles, continuing to wipe Muriel down. He looks over at them, something flitting on his face, but I don’t recognize the look. 

I sigh, “Okay, obvious question time. What happened? Who or what did this to you?”

Muriel is quiet, he just looks at me. Inanna whines next to me, and Faust slithers up to my shoulders, places her snoot near my ear. “ _ Lucio. _ ” She says softly. My eyes widen. 

“A-are you sure? He’s alive?” I whisper back to her, never taking my eyes off of Muriel. He looks away, face sour.

“ _ Goat-man. _ ” She says softly.

“What?” I breathe out. No way, Lucio is the goat-man-thing? How? Why? 

Inanna whines again, and I get the feeling they’re communicating. 

“ _ Killed Heart of the Forest. _ ”

I look over at her. “Heart of the what?”

Muriel sighs and gets my attention. “I couldn’t protect her. Lucio killed her and took her heart.”

“What?” I don’t understand this, any of it.

“Do we have to do this now? Can’t we let him rest?” Saffron interjects. 

“Lucio will most likely have a body now.” Muriel says ignoring Saffron. “Marion needs to know, he might come after her.”

“So, the Count isn’t dead? What? Why would he come after Marion?”

“Apparently, the goat-man is Lucio, he’s killed a magical creature to regain a body. Do I have that right?” I ask Muriel. He nods. “That means I’m in trouble, right? Will he be able to get past the wards with a body?” He nods again. “Why does he want to hurt me?” 

Muriel closes his eyes, “That’s something for Asra to answer, not me.”

I frown. I don’t like it, but I can’t force it. “None of this is ever going to make sense to me.” I sigh.

“Welcome to my world.” Julian says softly, his eye is closed but he seems to have come out of the worst of it. 

“Your world sucks.” I groan, and flick his nose. He laughs. 

It took a long time to clean up all of Muriel’s, Inanna’s and Julian’s blood from the shop floor. Remembering the sheer amount of it makes my heart squeeze in panic. Walking in and seeing one friend on death’s door and the other panicking and crying, doing their best to save the other was… not something I ever want to do again. Running down the street, screaming for Julian, not finding him at first and feeling utterly useless… I hope that never happens again. And Julian… I look up from smoothing out a pallet for Muriel to sleep on and see Julian talking to Saffron, giving them instructions on how to take care of Muriel during the night. Dear, sweet, beautiful Julian, without him, I would have lost a dear, dear friend. My chest constricts, and I blink back the tears. 

“Marion, you done? Muriel needs to rest.” Saffron calls to me. 

I swallow, trying to fight the tears back, “Yeah, sorry, it’s ready.” I stand up to grab a few blankets to cover Muriel with. 

Saffron and Julian together, help Muriel to his feet and lead him into the reading room where I have the makeshift pallet set up. They lower him down carefully, and he grumbles a reluctant thanks, Inanna whines a bit next to them until Muriel is comfortable. I cover him with a sad smile and tuck him in like a toddler.

“Who’s being a mother hen now?” He says to me, a petulant look on his face. I laugh and have to fight to make sure it doesn’t turn into a sob. I ruffle his messy hair and kiss his cheek. 

“Get some sleep, little chick.” I turn to Inanna and scratch under her jaw. “You too, you’ve both had a day. Sleep well.” Faust slips from my shoulder to curl up with the wolf. 

I make room for Saffron to get comfortable, sitting next to Muriel and fussing over his blankets themselves.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to tend to me.” Muriel mumbles, blushing a deep pink.

“Nonsense honey. You’ll sit back, relax and rest, and let me tend to you.” Saffron chastises. “If not for yourself then for my sanity.” They add softly.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Muriel says, sounding honest and small. I take this as my cue to leave. Seems like this conversation might get more private. 

I leave the reading room, pulling the large purple curtain to give them some privacy. On the stairs, Julian is sitting, head hanging between his legs. He looks absolutely exhausted. Something flutters in my chest and I have a hard time identifying the feeling. Instead of worrying about it, I decide to let the feeling guide me. I walk over to him and run my hand through his auburn curls. He startles, and looks up, I smile at him. 

“Julian, you look beat.” I run my hand along the side of his head, and he leans into my touch. 

“I am. Healing Muriel and Innana took a lot out of me. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” He laughs and reaches up to grab my unused hand. 

“Would you? Sleep for a week?” I ask.

“No, I can barely sleep for 5 hours at a time, even after healing someone.”

I frown and rub my thumb around the dark circles of his eye. “You need to rest more Julian.” 

He gives me a sardonic smile. “I would if I could,  _ draga _ . Sleep doesn’t come for me.”

“I have sleep tonics here, incense for sleep, herbs for tea. Let me whip you up something.” I turn to walk into the shop proper. He holds onto my hand and doesn’t let me walk away.

“That’s not necessary. I  _ will _ sleep tonight, whether I want to or not.” He smirks, pointing to his neck. Right, the “curse” will make him sleep. 

“Okay.” I look into his gray eye, the exhaustion making his eye slightly bloodshot. There it is, that feeling again. It guides me to take his head in my hands and guide him to my torso, fingers tangling into his hair, scratching and massaging his scalp. He stiffens at first, unsure of what to do, but then succumbs to my ministrations and gives a tired moan into my stomach. Slowly he brings his hands to my sides pulling me even closer to him. He takes a long, deep inhale, rubbing his face on my shirt. He releases it slowly, warming my shirt and making me shiver. “C’mon you, let's get you to bed.” I lean away, offering him a hand for help standing.

He looks up at me alarmed, a blush creeping its way down his neck to his chest. “Uh--er--don’t you think I should be going? I-it’s getting late…” His eye glides over to the door to the shop, then back to me.

“There’s no way I’m letting you go home tonight. You’re dead on your feet, Julian. I can’t have you collapsing in some alleyway trying to reach Mazelinka’s.” I grab his arm and tug. “Up you go.”

“W-where will I sleep? Muriel and Saffron took all the cushions and blankets…” His adam’s apple bobs, and his eye dashes to look from me to the stair leading to my bedroom.

I smirk at him. “Where the hell you think? It’s not the first time we’ve shared a bed Julian. Don’t get shy on me now.” I tug again and he obeys, standing. He towers over me, not only with his normal height, but also being on the first step of the stairs. He moves to the side so I can pass him, I tug him along up the stairs and he pauses at the top, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

I decide to let him go for now, to come to terms with what I’m asking of him. I walk over to the bed, tossing a few extra pillows from Asra’s side of the bed off to the floor. Damn Asra and his many comfortable amenities… Wait. I feel my back stiffen and suddenly I understand Julian’s reluctance. I try to suppress my blush but it doesn’t work and I turn to look at him. He’s biting his lip, looking at the bed like it might jump up and attack him. 

“I’m sorry.” I sigh, I wasn’t thinking at all. “I didn’t think… you probably don’t want to sleep here, not in this bed.” I bite my own lip. “I guess I’ll walk you home then? Would that be better? Let me grab my coat…” 

“No, no. I-it’s ok. You’re tired too, Marion. I-I’ll be fine.” Slowly he walks over to the bed and sits on the edge. 

“Okay.” I grab the pillows from the floor and the rest from the bed, leaving just two for us. “But first… Let’s get rid of these.” I toss them dramatically down the stairs and Julian laughs. 

“He does have too many pillows.” 

“Exactly. It drives me nuts. Makes me too hot.” I grumble. I look at him sitting on my bed, long legs carefully tucked so as not to take up too much space. Broad shoulders accentuated by the candlelight on the table, making his billowy white undershirt look almost sheer. His hair shines with an extra red sheen, his large nose leaving a long shadow across his face. He’s all angles, cheeks hollow, chin pointed, jaw angled and skin taught leading to his neck. His long arms are resting in his lap, fingers long, ungloved and absently tugging on each other in nervous energy. 

Suddenly he’s overtaken by a yawn, it’s large and uses his whole lithe body against his will. I chuckle and he blushes again, looking sheepish. I walk up to him, kneeling down to figure out the buckles of his boots. 

“Uh, uh, y-you--” He stammers and I wave him off, unbuckling both easily. 

“Just relax and let me take care of you.” I tug his boots off, tossing them to the foot of the bed. I remove his socks next. I stand and go to grab my night clothes. “Do you want anything to sleep in? I’m not sure I’d have anything that would fit… but I could try to find something.”

He shakes his head quickly. His nerves making his muscles all over his body coil up and ready to spring. I smirk at him and go to the washroom to change. When I return, he’s at least laid back onto the bed, trying to make himself comfortable. 

I sit on the edge of the bed, and I watch him. He’s trying to avoid looking at me, a blush going all the way to his chest and disappearing under his shirt. I want to poke fun at him, flirt with him, make innuendo and get us both laughing and relaxing. But when I look at him, all I can feel is that strange feeling, that constriction in my chest. I can feel my face scrunch a little as I watch him, and when he finally risks a glance at me, his eye widens in shock and he’s reaching forward grabbing my shoulder and my cheek, worry written all over his face. 

“Oh, Marion, what’s wrong, talk to me.” His eye vibrates back and forth from one of my eyes to the next. 

I can feel the sob wanting to escape out of my throat and I fight it back with every ounce of power I can muster. I lose the battle with keeping the tears from breaching over, and he wipes them away with his thumbs. 

“Don’t cry,  _ draga _ , please don’t cry…” He leans forward and kisses my forehead, lingering for a long moment. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. A very emotional day.” I laugh, though it cracks from the tightness in my throat. 

“Th-there’s no reason to apologize, my dear.”

I lean up and capture his lips with my own, letting my eyes close. He hesitates just a second before returning the kiss. I grab at his undershirt, fisting my hands tightly into the fabric. His thumbs continue to wipe the tears away as I kiss him. 

Slowly, I pull away. “Thank you, Julian.” 

His eye flutters open and he watches me with curiosity. 

I fight the constriction in my throat, intent on getting my words out without breaking down completely. “Thank you, so much. You have no idea what you’ve done for me today. Without you, I would have lost a good friend and that would have destroyed me.”

“Marion…”

“You’re beautiful, Julian. I know you don’t see it, I can almost feel the discontent seep out of you about yourself. But, know that you’re beautiful to me, and I’m so thankful you’re in my life. I know it hasn’t been long, but I feel like I’ve known you forever... You make me feel comfortable, calm, and safe. Thank you.” I touch his cheek lightly with my hand, the tenderest of touches. 

He looks down, his face morose. “I’m not a good man, Marion. I’ve done… terrible things.”

I grab his face, pulling his gaze back to mine. “You’ve also done wonderful, miraculous things. Today’s events attest to that. You’ve also been on grand adventures that I’m dying for you to tell me about. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can be a part of some of the stories you will tell in the future.” I smile at him, that feeling there again, but another one inching up, one I’m more familiar with. One I’m not sure if I should act on.

I kiss him again, a quick peck and give him a brilliant smile. He watches me, unsure of what to do, but a smile tugging on his lips all the same. 

“Good night, Julian.” I push him down onto his back, he falls without a fight, chuckling at my antics. I stand and blow out the candle then crawl into bed beside him. 

He curls his long limbs around me, spooning me from behind. He breathes in my scent, sighing into my neck. “You’re welcome, Marion. All those things, and so much more I would do for you, thousand times over, without a second thought.” 

My chest constricts again, tight but lofty at the same time, harsh but pleasant. I lean back into his body, running my hand along the hairy, cool skin of his forearms. Without thinking my left hand reaches back and I run my fingers through his hair again. I’ll never get tired of touching his hair. My fingers glance off the band of his eyepatch and I seize the leather, tugging at it. He lifts his head to let me remove it, and I bring it to my face to look at it. I can’t see much, it’s too dark. I toss it towards where I hope the side table is. 

He sniffs along my neck, and leaves a few feather light kisses, trailing the tip of his nose behind, tickling my flesh. The second feeling slams into my loins, lust. I’m no stranger to lust, but with this man, who is now slowly rubbing my side with long delicate fingers, it’s not only lust but something else. And that something else keeps me from rolling over and pouncing him, ravishing him, making him scream my name. 

But if he keeps breathing on my neck like he is, I’m not sure how long I can hold it back. My body moves on instinct and I press my backside into him, and he gives a small gasp, his hot breath on my neck and I shiver. 

“Marion…” He whispers quietly, reverently, and it’s my undoing. With a groan I turn in his grasp, I grab the hair at his nape and pull him into a hungry kiss, he moans into my mouth, the rumble of his chest vibrating my own.

“Be quiet Julian, we don’t want to wake the others.” I pull away to chastise, not giving him a chance to respond I reclaim his mouth and he moans again, more quietly, but not able to be silent. I run my hands up under the hem of his shirt, greedily feeling every line of muscle, and finally,  _ finally _ running my fingers through his chest hair. I break the kiss to sigh in content, running my hands back and forth, up and down along the hair, following it down the middle of his stomach and back again. 

His hands run down my back, fingers trailing the ridges of my spine, down to the very top of the crack of my bottom and back up again. They pause on my ribcage, massaging and tugging at the skin there. He bends forward to kiss my clavicle, sliding my shirt over my shoulder to allow him more access. I gasp as he leaves heavier, wetter open mouthed kisses along my shoulder and trailing back up to my neck. 

“Julian…” I whine softly, pressing myself into him more, hooking a leg over his hip. He moans softly again, his hand shakes as it trails down my side, to my ass and settles at grabbing my thigh, where he kneads the muscle lightly. 

My hands land at the waist of his pants and I run my fingers along the fabric there, posing a silent question. He pants onto my shoulder before pulling back to look me in the eye. The contrast between his eyes is startling, even in the darkness of the bedroom, but they’re beautiful eyes and so I look at them admiringly. I wait for him to answer my touches.

He doesn’t seem to understand my meaning, or he’s playing dumb to see what I’ll do next, so instead I reach down to rub my hand along the length of his very obvious erection, I fight back a moan at how it feels against my hand. He lets out another louder moan and in a panic I capture his lips in a kiss to muffle it. He has the decency to look apologetic, a look that doesn’t last as I cup his balls in a firm grip. 

“Marion--” he breathes, trying so, so hard to be quiet. I grin at him and he bites his lip, his whole face, neck and chest alight with an aroused flush. 

“Can I touch you, Julian?” I whisper into his mouth and his eyes flutter quickly. 

“P-please.” He begs, and I reach down into his pants and grab his erection. His entire body shudders under the touch, and it takes him a second to recover his breath. I pump my hand slowly up and down the shaft, using his precum as lubrication for my movements. His hand on my thigh tightens, sending lightning pulses to my core. I keep up my motions until he begins to snake his hand back towards my ass, fingers sliding under the fabric of my shorts. I gasp as he finds the edge of my underwear. 

“J-Julian…” I gasp.

"Will you let me…?" He asks breathless. In answer I unhook my leg from him, laying on my back, never letting go of his erection. I spread my legs for him. He slides up onto his elbow for better access and without a second thought plunges his long fingered hand down the waist of my shorts, parting my folds with a practiced hand.

“So wet,  _ draga _ …” he keens at me, mouth open and panting while he watches what he’s doing in my shorts. His middle finger runs along my slit, coating it in my arousal then deftly finds my clitoris, giving it a firm circle with the pad of his finger. I gasp and buck into his hand involuntarily, eager for more. He continues, leaving me a panting mess beneath him. I try to continue my work on him, but he seems determined to distract me, and he presses hard on my clit before letting his finger slide down and into me with a quick but controlled motion. It’s my turn to moan louder than I should, and he follows my example by muffling it with his mouth. He thrusts his finger in a few times before adding another, making me moan again into his mouth. My right hand finds his arm and I guide him to what I like, and soon he’s found a tempo that leaves me keening and grabbing at the sheets. 

He doesn’t dare remove his mouth from mine, the noises I’m making would surely wake the two downstairs if he ended the kiss. I can feel him smiling though, and if I had the wherewithal to smack him I would, but right now I’m a hot mess. He curls his finger inside of me, searching for that sweet tender spot, and I melt when he finds it, rubbing it hard with each thrust of his fingers. 

I’m so close, so close. My body quivers, and I grab at his shirt, breaking the kiss to chant his name over and over. His thumb finds my clit and presses hard, and I’m jelly in his hand. “Oh, please, please,  _ please _ !” And suddenly I’m tumbling over the edge, convulsing on his fingers, his beautiful wonderful long fingers. He moans as he watches me quiver, panting into his neck. 

“Beautiful,  _ draga _ , beautiful.” He whispers letting me ride the orgasm to completion, but he doesn’t remove his fingers. His thumb lazily draws circles on my clit, revving me back up. I groan and laugh at the same time, and he gives me a devilish grin. I reach up and kiss him again before resuming my attention on his erection. I pull his pants down, letting his dick spring free, and he gasps as the cooler air makes his balls constrict. I waste no time in palming it once more, moving up and down his length, with an extra swirl on his head. He groans and closes his eyes, leaning his head back. 

I take advantage of his position and I attack his neck with my mouth, with kisses at first but advancing to full on bites as his moans urge me on. His dick slickens with more precum, and I let it lubricate my hand, pumping harder and faster. His body tightens, lithe muscles coiling. His fingers start to move again inside me, and my motions falter for a brief second, but I won’t be distracted this time, I fight through my pleasure, to ensure I give him his. 

Soon we’re both grunting and moving, smiling at each other as we both try to get the other off before we succumb. He cheats with another hard press to my clit and quick rub against that sweet spot inside and I’m over the edge, clamping down and muffling my moans into his neck, but I can feel he’s not far behind so I push through, not halting my hand, and with a deep groan he comes, dick twitching in my hand, cum spilling out over my hand and shooting against my thigh. His body shudders and he pulls his fingers from me grabbing me and pulling me close, devouring my mouth in a hungry kiss. 

We part, both of us smiling and basking in the afterglow of orgasm. He tucks himself back into his pants, and I adjust my shorts to a more comfortable position. I wipe up some of his cum from my thigh and bring it to my lips, he watches pupils blown wide and I smile as I put my finger to my tongue, tasting him. He bites his lip as I suck my finger clean, I chuckle at him and he pulls me into another kiss. 

I settle myself comfortably in his embrace, kissing at his chest with quick pecks, he chuckles slightly with each peck. Finally he yawns again, and with an apologetic smile he says, “I’m sorry my dear, I’m afraid I’m about to depart to the dream realm.”

I run my hand through his hair, “Sweet dreams, and safe travels.” I kiss him tenderly and I can almost feel the exact moment he’s actually departed from wakefulness. I watch him sleep for a time before I too, after the trials of the day, drift off.

_ I climb nimbly onto the surgical table, laying my body flat for the doctors to secure my limbs. I still don’t know why they do this, I suppose it’s just a safety protocol. As if they’re afraid I’ll come to my senses and begin to flail about. I wonder how many times that has happened with other subjects.  _

_ Today is 083 and 041’s turn for a session with me. I’ve been passed around a lot lately between the doctors. There have been a lot of new doctors, a lot of older doctors haven’t been back. I wonder if the job has gotten to those who haven’t returned, or maybe if it was the plague that got them. I’ll never know for sure. _

_ The two murmur amongst each other, prepping their tables. I can’t see what they’re doing, but I can hear the clink of metal on metal, and I frown in my head. Metal sounds usually mean scalpels, or syringes. This session seems to be promising some pain. _

_ “Did you hear the nonsense 069 has been saying?” 083 says to 041. _

_ 041 sighs, “When isn’t he spouting some kind of nonsense?” _

_ 083 laughs, it’s a gravelly sound. “True, but I mean what he’s been saying about 017 here.” _

_ Oh? He talks about me with the other doctors? I don’t know why I’m surprised, of course he’d share his findings if he has any. _

_ “What, you mean the communication? He’s full of shit. 017 is basically a walking corpse, look at it. There’s no way this thing has a working psyche. I’m pretty sure it’s held together by some kind of twisted magic.”  _

_ “Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have let him suck me into another lame story. Let’s get to work.”  _

_ I feel a pinprick at the crook of my left elbow, something cold injected into my vein.  _

_ “I.V. is ready, which do you want to try first?”  _

_ “Let’s try vial 34b.” _

_ There’s a pause in their conversation as they prep. Cold enters my vein again, I wait to see what happens. Nothing. _

_ “No result.” I hear a quill scratching on paper.  _

_ “Vial 19c.” Nothing. _

_ “Vial 05d.” Nothing… wait. There’s something. Slowly, I feel my body flush, heat rising.  _

_ “I see a dermal reaction, looks to be an exanthem eruption.” _

_ “Watch for swelling.” _

_ My insides are on  _ fire _ , my body is alive with heat and pain. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I want to scream, I want to flail, I want to punch these motherfuckers in their white beaked faces! _

_ Liquid lava in my veins. Magma in my belly. My mind is chaos, but my body is still. Always so infuriatingly still.  _

_ I can barely make out other voices coming from the dressing room. Several people enter the dungeon theatre. I hear a familiar laugh. My chest tightens. Oh, 069, help me! Stop them, this hurts. I’m tired of pain. _

_ I curl my toes, hoping he’ll notice.  _

_ Minutes go by, the burning gets worse. _

_ “Exanthem is increasing, covering 80% of dermis.” _

_ My insides feel like they’re liquifying. My vision starts to swim, I feel light headed, uh oh, this isn’t good. _

_ I hear some kind of glass shatter on the ground.  _

_ “Whoa, whoa! What are you doing? You’re hurting her!” I hear 069 yell from across the room.  _

_ “What are you talking about?” 041 says harshly. _

_ There’s a scuffle, a tray of utensils crashes to the floor. _

_ “Are you insane?!” _

_ “017, can you hear me?” His voice is in my ear. Weakly, I tap once. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be conscious. My vein is flushed with the sweetness of cold, he must be flushing me with saline. I don’t think it’s going to work, my body is reacting too much. _

_ “What did you inject her with?” He growls. _

_ “Her? You mean  _ it _ , don’t get yourself confused.” 041 growls back.  _

_ “Steroids, I need prednisone…” _

_ Everything fades away. _

~Interlude~

Asra leaned against the door of the shop, his weary body aching from his long journey. He takes a moment to feel relieved about being home before he opens the door, undoubtedly leading him to trouble. Anything with Marion ended in trouble, and now he has to deal with Ilya too. He groans. 

The thought of the two of them being a thing is enough to make him pull his hair out. 

He could barely keep up with Marion on his best days, and the ache of his heart was hard to deal with. It's why he didn't stay around long. It was too hard. Everytime she would stand behind the counter of the shop, smiling and talking to customers, drawing up magic circles or even just sweeping at the end of the day would remind him of Miranda. He would almost mistake her for his lover, and then she'd speak, and his heart would break. 

It did help that Marion now was so much different, but yet still the same, as Marion of the past. The two of them didn't get along before, would even be downright hostile. Ravini, the twin's aunt, used to laugh at them as they both fought over Miranda's attention. 

It was difficult because Miranda was a prodigy, her magic amazing and strong and her aura beautiful. Asra was smitten with it and her immediately. Marion was… not. She had no talent, her aura dull, barely existent. In his naivety, he thought for sure that Marion was jealous of her sister, and that was where her animosity stemmed from. After knowing Marion now, without Miranda, he knows he had it wrong. Marion was fine not having the talent, she was not jealous of her sister. She was jealous of  _ him _ . Most of her life she must have wanted to be a part of her sister's favorite thing, to fit in with her family, and was never able to. Then he came along and fit in so easily… 

He regrets that it took her dying for him to understand her. 

She would take her anger out on magic. Scoffing at them when they discussed it, would leave their presence when they practiced it. This used to sadden Miranda and it infuriated him. So different from Marion now, as she would watch him with rapt attention, even help him set up. Past Marion would still go outside of the city and present her sister and aunt with magical ingredients she would gather for them. She kept the shop well stocked. He knows now that it was her only way of contributing to the family business. It didn't occur to him that she may have felt inadequate and useless.

She started to get into trouble. She would fight with Ravini, steal money from the shop, come home drunk and beat up expecting Miranda to heal her. And Miranda would, no questions asked. This used to make Asra seethe in anger. The older they got, the worse the transgressions. 

When the Red Plague started to spread in Vesuvia, Ravini was one of its first victims. Her death took its toll on all three of them. Miranda stepped up and took over the shop. Filling Ravini's magical shoes was a monumental task but Miranda met the challenge and thrived. She blossomed, and Asra was in awe of her. Marion… she fell even deeper into her anger. She started to deal in illegal goods, became a name in the Red Market, would get arrested for various misdeeds. Miranda was always having to bail her out. 

And then when the plague began to ravage the city, he had decided it was time to flee. He didn't want to lose Miranda to the plague, he couldn't lose her, she was everything to him. But… she wouldn't leave without her sister. Marion was determined to stay, kept spouting nonsense about the people needing her. He was so angry with her… 

Miranda placated him, told him to leave and find them a new home. She would talk some sense into her sister and would soon follow him. Reluctantly, he did as she asked, and he'll never forgive himself for it. 

He knew the moment she was gone. The world grieved her loss. Everything seemed… less. Dull. Lifeless. Her presence in the world made everything alight with magic, color and beauty. When she passed, the air went stale, the sun lost its warmth. It was immediate and devastating. He returned to Vesuvia, broken, seeking answers. He learned that she had taken up an apprenticeship with one of the doctors, had contracted the plague and died. 

His worst fear was his new reality.

It hurt. It was unbearable. He was confused and angry, not understanding why she would take an apprenticeship when she was supposed to be convincing her out of control sister to run away with her. He was convinced it was Marion's fault. His grieving heart needed someone to blame.

And it was oh so grotesquely ironic that when he tried to bring Miranda back, it turned out to be Marion who he gave half of his heart to. 

Alas, the Wheel of Fortune had spun and he was given his task. He cared for Marion, watched over her and guided her as she recovered. How could he not? She held half of him--was also a part of Miranda. She didn't ask to be brought back. He had done that to her.

Dare he say now, that he loved her. Despite the pain she brought him, he enjoyed her liveliness, her quick wit, her childish antics. He found he missed her when he was away, and that's what always brought him back to the shop. He could have easily ditched her when she was fully capable of caring for herself, but he couldn't. He had created the sibling relationship with her that Miranda had always wanted for them. How could he possibly leave that behind?

Miranda is right, Marion deserved another chance. Perhaps he knew it, deep down. He just needed Miranda's wisdom to help him see it.

Oh! And to have learned that his actions were not in vain! To know that Miranda was brought back too, if not in the flesh then at least in spirit… He can't help his smile. His gate was algow with her radiance. The world felt whole again. His life has meaning again. Once he ensures that Marion is safe, he plans to return to the Arcane realms and bask in everything that is her. 

But first… he needs to open the door. 

The shop is dark, no surprise, the only sound is an obnoxious snoring coming from the reading room. He smiles to himself, Saffron must be staying over. He conjures a ball of light to see by, it floats lazily to the middle of the shop. It illuminates a horror scene of towels, shirts, blankets stained a dark mud brown, piled up in the corner. The floor looks to be hastily mopped, evidence of precious lifeblood still lingering in the cracks of the hardwood. 

Before he has a chance to react to the sight, Faust comes slithering out from under the curtain of the reading room to him. 

" _ Back. _ " She sighs happily, immediately curling around his arm as he extends it to her.

"What happened?" He asks her, trying to keep his voice low, but can't help the tinge of panic.

" _ Muriel, Inanna hurt. Squeeze Toy healed, safe now. _ "

Squeeze Toy? There's only one person she would call that. "Ilya healed them? What happened to them?"

" _ Heart of the Forest dead. Couldn't save. _ "

He feels his heart sink into his stomach. The worst possible things have happened while he was away. It had to happen while he was gone. No wonder Saffron is so pissed at him. 

"Where's Marion?" He asks.

" _ Upstairs, asleep. _ " 

As if on cue, there's movement from upstairs, a rustling, then the descent of heavy booted feet down the stairs. She must have woken, heard him talking. It will be a relief to see her. 

He turns to smile at her, expecting a joyous welcome home, but who he sees makes the smile die on his lips. Standing at the base of the stairs, hair mussed from sleep, shirt unbuttoned and half hanging off one shoulder, eye bloodshot from lack of sleep, is the last person he was wanting to see.

"Ilya." His eyes narrow to thin slits.

Julian jumps, startled to see someone standing in the shop. "A-Asra…" he squeaks. His eye is the size of a tea cup saucer.

Asra quickly puts two and two together and his blood boils with rage. "What are you doing here?" He manages to get the question out past his grinding teeth.

The blush that lights his face tells Asra everything he needs to know. “I-I, erm, well…” He’s suddenly conscious of his appearance and he pulls his shirt over his shoulder, tucking it back into his pants some. 

Asra can’t help it, he lets out a dark, humorless laugh. “You have a lot of nerve, Ilya, to come into my home, sleep in my bed… take  _ advantage _ of my charge.”

He pales in the light of the orb, his eye wide. “A-advantage? No, you have it all wrong--”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He cuts off the fugitive doctor. “What do you think you’re doing? What could you possibly have to offer her? The girl gets into enough trouble as it is, she doesn’t need your help!” It’s hard for him to keep his voice down, but he just manages it. “She has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need to contend with your insecurities.”

This makes Julian’s face flare red, in anger this time. “Oh, and it’s so much better for her to have to deal with your flightiness? Why not let her decide which she’d rather contend with.”

He can feel his own face flush with indignation. He closes his eyes to regain his composure.

“Listen, Asra, this isn’t how she’d want this to go between us…” Julian sighs, voice small. “You’ve just returned, you must be tired. Rest, talk to Marion, see to Muriel.” He walks over and grabs his coats from the hanger by the door. “Marion knows where to find me when you’re ready to talk.”

Asra laughs again. “So, you’ll just leave her in the middle of the night?”

Julian looks up startled, his hands pause from buttoning his waistcoat. “That’s not fair Asra…” 

“If you hurt her…”

“I don’t intend to. She at least  _ wants _ me around, and for more than fodder for taboo magic.”

“Don’t blame me for you not knowing what you wanted. I made my intentions crystal clear.”

There’s movement upstairs again and both men pause glancing at the stairwell. 

~Interlude End~

I'm woken by a tingling sensation all over my body. It's itchy and uncomfortable. Faintly, I hear the moans and cries that I’ve almost grown accustomed to, the skittering making me itch even more. I toss and turn for a while, not able to get comfortable or alleviate the sensation. I open my eyes to see my ceiling barely illuminated by the beginnings of dawn. I look over to see the bed next to me empty and I have to fight back the feeling of disappointment. I wonder when he woke, if he got enough sleep? If he's still here? 

I sit up and toss the blanket from my legs. My head hurts, and I scratch along my arms trying to scratch the itch on my skin. I look at my arms, trying to discern if I have a rash, why else would my skin itch so much? I don't see anything other than the lines from my fingernails. I frown and get up, heading to the washroom. I wash my face and arms, the cool water is soothing. 

Over the moans, I hear muffled voices coming from downstairs, and I head to the stairway. Halfway down I feel a jolt, like a pressure pushing in on my body and I lose my footing scooting down a couple of steps and landing on my ass. I don't have enough time to register the pain as another jolt hits me and I gasp. 

"Marion?" A familiar voice calls. I look up and try to take in a breath to answer but an unbelievable pressure halts me, the moans grow louder, accented by a new sound: chains. I can feel my body quake as I try to stand and my body won't obey.

Oh no. No no no.  _ Shit _ .

Two figures come into view, their eyes wide and curious. One grey eye and two lavender. Julian and Asra. Asra…  _ Asra. _

My heart leaps into my throat and I try again to speak but my voice won't come. The color in my vision bleeds away to only shades of gray and the red accents of Julian. I can feel a cold sweat bead all over my body as I fight to use it. I feel an odd sensation snaking along my skin, almost like when Faust climbs up my leg or around my shoulders, only this… this is something else. Hot and cold at the same time, rough and stinging.

Julian steps forward first, not seeming to see my distress. "Miss a step did you? Let me help you." He reaches out to me.

"Ilya, wait." Asra says voice stiff. My eyes dart to him and he's pulling Julian away by the arm, Julian let's him confusion on his face. "Marion? Are you there?"

"Asra, what? She's right here!" Julian hisses at him, trying to keep his voice down but confusion and uncertainty rises in his voice. I can feel something tighten around my arms and legs, just on the verge of pain. My muscles tighten on their own. This doesn’t feel like it did last time… They must have strengthened the spell.

"Did Muriel cast a fresh protection spell on her before he was hurt?" Asra asks.

Julian pales in the morning light. "No, I don't think he did."

My body quakes more, I try to breathe, try to speak, but my body is not my own anymore. I can feel the outrageous itch along my skin, and now I understand that it's the last bits of the protection spell dissolving on my body.

"Marion, fight it." Asra instructs me. "Breathe. In and out, with me." I try to follow his breathing but nothing happens. Another jolt slams into me and I feel my back arch, my head thrown back on its own accord. I stare at the ceiling, fear pulsing through my veins.

"Asra… she can't fight this. Do something!" Julian growls.

Asra raises his hands and a lavender barrier appears at the door to the stairwell. 

Julian clicks his tongue. "Something else! She can break through barriers."

"What?" Asra asks, confused. 

"She broke through Muriel's barrier last time, with her blood and some runes." 

My body stands on its own, my head righting itself and letting me see the two men in front of me. 

"Cast another protection spell." Julian offers. "Looks like the old one has worn off."

Asra shakes his head, eyes wide. "I can't, I need time to prepare…" 

I step forward down the stairs, meeting Asra's barrier. My hands feel along it, as they had with Muriel's, searching for a weakness. 

"She's going to bite her finger and start writing magic stuff all over the barrier with her blood." Julian looks over at Asra, eye pleading. "We have to do something."

Asra nods, "When I release the barrier, grab her and hold her. I need time to weave some rope."

"Will the rope hold her?"

"I don't know, but it could hold you, so…"

Julian's cheeks pink a bit before he nods. "Yeah okay, how long do you need?"

"10 maybe 15 seconds? Think you can do that?"

"No choice."

My hands halt and my right pointer finger raises to my mouth, I brace for the pain.

"Now!" Julian yells. Asra releases the barrier and Julian tackles me. I fall back into the stairs with a crash, his heavy body crushing me against them. He grabs my hands and tries to force them together. My hands don't budge, I can see panic in his eyes as my body stands, easily lifting him with me. 

"Asra…" he squeaks. I walk forward.

"Five more seconds…" Asra grunts. I walk three more steps when I feel silky magic ropes slink themselves around my ankles and wrists and pull. They halt my forward progress, I can feel a small bit of relief overwhelm me. A chair scrapes along the floor and slams into the back of my knees, but they don't give. Slowly, the ropes tug me down into the chair, Julian helps to push my body down. The ropes secure me tightly to the chair. 

If I could sigh in relief I would. 

"Marion, darling, fight it." Julian says grabbing my face in his hands. My eyes dart around his face, my eyes being the only thing under my control. He looks into me through my eyes and doesn't break the look. "Asra, she's there, I can tell." I want to weep, of course he would be able to tell.

"Marion…" my eyes dart to Asra, he's breathing hard, hands extended, eyes wide and scared. "I'm not going to be able to hold this. The compulsion is too strong." He lets out a shuddered breath. I can see his muscles begin to shake from the exertion. "I'm sorry…"

"What? What does that mean? What's going to happen?" Julian whirls to Asra, I can feel the tension of his whole body through his hands.

"It means…" Asra pants, sweat starting to bead on his brow. "That they have her, and she's going to go to them."

"No." Julian breathes, "No no no. Do something Asra."

"I'm sorry…" Asra laments, holding on with everything he has.

I look to Julian, then to Asra. I try to convey through a look that it's okay, that I'm scared but it's okay. 

Asra seems to understand my look, and with a strangled cry his body crumples. I immediately feel the bonds loosen and my arms break free, destroying the chair in the process. Julian falls back onto his rump, staring at me with fear. 

I turn and walk into the shop proper. Saffron stumbles out of the reading room rubbing their eyes. They stop as they see me walk by. 

"Where are you going, wearing nothing but your nighties?" They ask. I can't answer. I walk to the door, wrenching it open harshly.

"She's compulsed." Asra pants. 

" _ What _ ?!" Saffron exclaims. "Do something! Stop her!" 

"I can't! I tried." His voice sounds close to weeping. 

I walk out the door and turn down the street. I feel something warm envelope my shoulders and look down to see Julian's overcoat. I look up to see him walking next to me, fear evident in his eye, but there's also determination. 

"Ilya! What are you--" Asra calls.

"I'm going with her. I can't let her face this alone…" he looks into my eyes. "I'm here Marion, I'll be with you.” He reaches and grabs my hand, clasping it tightly. My hand doesn’t respond, and I could weep. 

I’m scared. I’ve never been so scared. I don’t want to face this alone, but I also don’t want Julian to get hurt. It would end me if he gets hurt because of me. This is all because I’m weak, if I had any kind of magical talent I would be able to break free. But I don’t, so I can’t, and now it’s over. If I could cry… 

But I can’t.

I can’t do anything.

“I’ll figure out a way, Marion. Just hang on.” I hear Asra say before we are out of earshot. 

Somewhere above us, in the brightening sky, I hear Malak squawk. I can hear the people of Vesuvia starting their morning routines. I see a few look at us strangely as we make our way silently through the streets. I must be a sight to see, walking down the street in my night clothes, barefoot, back ramrod straight, an overcoat that’s comically too big for me draped over my shoulders. Julian, sweet beautiful Julian, diligently walking next to me, ignoring the looks, holding my hand and biting his lip in fear. 

The compulsion leads up through the streets of the city, over canal bridges, into the Heart District and ultimately to the palace. Every step increases Julian’s anxiety and confusion, his face is easy to read--what little I can see of it. I wish I could speak, I would tell him to run. At this rate, he’s going to be spotted by a guard and arrested. A new fear constricts my heart and I fight with renewed vigor, but it seems I’m still incapable of breaking free.

We approach the gates slowly, my body isn’t in a hurry. Two guards are standing at the gate, looking bored but they stand at attention again as we approach. 

“Who goes there?” One of the guards call, Bludmila? Wasn’t that her name?

“Uh… Um…” Julian stammers.

A cold silky, muffled voice sounds from behind the gate, Julian instantly straightens ramrod straight. “Let them in, they are my… guests.”

“Oh no…” His voice is tense, his hand clenching mine so tightly it hurts. 

The guards seem confused but they begin to open the gate. Bludmila seems to recognize me, she faces me fully, confusion on her face. “Magician Marion... “ she says, then turns to Julian, her eyes widening. “Doctor Devorak! Marion, you found him!”

My lack of a response to her seems to trigger suspicion. The gate continues to swing open, and it finally reveals the owner of the voice on the other side. 

Quaestor Valdemar.

I come to a stop before them. I can feel every muscle in Julian’s arm shake. 

Valdemar looks me over, satisfaction on their strange features. I can see their smile under the medical mask. Their red eyes dart over to Julian, and I can feel him try to collapse into himself. 

“Doctor 069… this is an unexpected development.” They sneer at him slightly before sighing. “Though not surprising, you did have an unwarranted attachment to 017. Are you the reason why it wouldn’t respond to my calls?”

Julian swallows so hard I can hear it.

The Quaestor’s eyes look down at our hands and narrow to slits. “Stop touching my subject.”

Julian downright quakes next to me, I’m not sure if he’s choosing to stay silent, or if he’s just not able to speak.

Valdemar clicks their tongue. “017 extricate yourself. We have work to do.” Valdemar turns on their heel and walks towards the palace. 

With no hesitation my body responds, pulling my hand roughly from Julian’s grasp and following. I hear Julian gasp.

“Remove the coat.” Valdemar orders, and I shrug from Julian’s overcoat, it falls to the ground. 

“Wait!” Julian cries out, following after me. 

“Devorak!” The guards yell, I can hear a scuffle behind me. No! No, please!  _ Shit _ !

“That’s not necessary.” Valdemar says, turning to see the struggle. “You’ve come this far with 017, you’re not about to run away now, are you?”

I hear Julian’s defeated voice respond. “No.”

“Release him. He’ll come along without a fuss.”

Run, Julian. Please run.

A moment later, he comes to stand next to me. I want to scream. My eyes dash around, not able to do anything else. He glances down at me, we make eye contact, and I can see the fear in his eye. I try to speak through my eyes,  _ run Julian, run _ . He shakes his head imperceptibly.

“017…” I glance over to Valdemar and they’re frowning. “Close your eyes, you don’t need them, and they’re annoying.” My lids obey and I’m left in darkness.

~Interlude~

Marion’s scared aquamarine eyes close with the order, and Julian feels the loss immediately. 

In front of them Valdemar sighs in content, “Much better.” They turn again and lead them into the palace. 

Julian follows, not sure what else to do. His mind is blank, fear having taken most of his gumption from him and a headache sears behind his eyes. All he knows at this point is to not be separated from Marion.  _ Stay with her, stay with her. _ He chants this mantra in his head, eye glued to the small frame walking slightly ahead of him. 

It’s unnerving, how her gait has changed. She usually walks with a slight sway of her hips, a bounce in her step. Her face slightly flushed from talking, laughing, and trying to keep up with his stride. Now she’s stiff, each step sure of itself, even with her eyes closed. He can’t imagine her tripping over nothing like this. Her skin is pallid now, almost gray. He fights back the urge to touch her, his skin aches for her comfort. Her hair is still mussed from sleep, sticking up some in the back, he wants to smooth it down, curl the ends with his fingers in resting his hands on her clavicle…

They round a corner in the palace, coming to a large hallway with a large wooden panel the color of honey. There standing next to said panel is a familiar face that makes his stomach drop.

Pasha. 

She stands at the door, yawning, her red hair a wild mess of curls, as if she was woken recently. In her hand is a large key ring, with an indeterminate amount of keys dangling from it. She looks over after the yawn and she stills, eyes widening impossibly large. They dart from him to Marion to Valdemar as they approach her. Finally her eyes stop and linger on him.

Valdemar looks at Pasha expectantly, and she flushes breaking eye contact with him to turn to the panel. He follows her gaze to see a familiar tree carved into the wooden panel. Jewels, stones and mother of pearl are inlaid along the leaves and fruit of the tree, each different and unique. 

“Good morning,” she says cautiously. “I never pegged you for a morning person, Marion.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Open the door handmaiden, we don’t have time to chat.” Valdemar says cooly, they stand before the panel, back straight hands steepled before them, eyes closed.

“Right…” Pasha says, staring at Marion, her brows furrowing together. She’s probably wondering why her eyes are closed, why she’s barefoot, dressed in night clothes. She glances back at Julian and she narrows her eyes at him in question. He gives her a morose look, and she turns to put the first key in the lock.

It takes several keys to unlock the panel, each key making the roots of the intricate tree relinquish their hold of the floor. Once the last key is turned the panel jerks suddenly and it folds itself up and moves to the side like a fan. Inside he can see the large expanse of books, the library itself a vision of blue and purple hues. Sunlight is just starting to crest over the ledge of the stained glass window, lighting the floor in a rainbow of colors. 

Valdemar and Marion stride into the room without hesitation, disappearing behind some bookshelves. Julian lingers just a moment waiting for a chance to speak to Pasha. 

“ _ Ilyushka, što se događa _ ?” Pasha whispers, face contorted in confusion and panic. 

He grabs her shoulder hard, his panic making him lose control of his strength. “ _ Nema vremena Pasha. Donesite poruku Asra u dućan, recite im gdje smo. _ ” He murmurs to her, he waits for just a second longer to see her nod. Quickly he catches back up with Marion, hovering behind her. Valdemar is casually pulling back books from the shelf. There’s a red book, a leather book, and they’re currently pulling on a black book with gold accents. 

Pain explodes behind his eyes, and he staggers back grabbing his head. This… this leads to… The bookshelf before them slides to the side, and exposes stone steps leading down into darkness. A new sense of unease hits him, and dread fills his belly. Normally something like this would send a thrill of excitement through him. If he had found this, in another time, maybe with just Marion...

Valdemar imperiously enters the stairwell, Marion two steps behind them. He lingers at the top of the stairs, watching them disappear into the darkness. He looks back towards the library door, Pasha having long dashed off to do his bidding. He takes a deep breath, and begins his descent. 

The stairs are uneven, but somehow his feet know just where to step. The tunnel smells dank with wetness and dirt. He has to stoop to avoid the tendrils of roots trying to tangle themselves in his hair. He can’t see a thing, but he can hear the click of Valdemar’s boots, the soft padding of Marion’s bare feet. He follows the sound, his body remembering the way. 

He can feel more than he can see the tunnel expanding away from him. Up ahead, he can see a black metal gate, illuminated ominously from behind and below by a dull red light. He can finally see Marion’s silhouette, black against the red light. He pointedly avoids looking at the other, taller one. He blinks back the sting of pain from his eyes as he approaches.

“Feel some nostalgia, 069?” Valdemar says as they pull out a black, oily key from their medical apron. “This part always used to make you doctors squirm. I always thought it was a nice touch.” They insert the key into a placard and turn the mechanism.

Julian stares at the words on the placard, reading them over and over and over, his mind screaming at him that this was just a dream. Just a dream. Just an old nightmare. One he’s had many, many,  _ too many _ times. 

_ Bloody hands may turn the key. Know the weight of your sins, and enter. _

It’s real, oh god, it’s real. He’s here, really here in front of this horror or horrors. It’s real, and he’s here and oh god, oh god, it’s  _ really real _ . His blood runs cold in his veins. 

The old machine groans to life, the gate sliding away exposing a lift made from rusting iron. Julian watches in horror as Marion steps into it, turns and lets the gate clank shut behind her. 

No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening, she’s not going down there. His memories flash at him in his mind, horrid grotesque images of scalpels, clamps, syringes, leather straps, wooden tables, all covered in blood. Cages, cells, bodies, so many  _ bodies _ ...

The lift takes her down, comes back up empty. Valdemar turns to him, their eyes alight with excitement, the red glow of the lift leaving shadows across their face, as if their face wasn’t terrifying enough on it’s own. 

“After you, 069.” They motion for him to enter. He hesitates. He could still leave, he could run from this nightmare and never return. He doubts that Valdemar would try to stop him. He gets a feeling that his presence here was just a mild amusement for them. He can see the evidence of a smile behind the medical mask. “Something wrong? Having second thoughts?” They watch him for a moment longer, then they shake their head. “Suit yourself.” They enter the lift and descend. 

Oh no, oh god, he just let them leave. He’s left Marion alone in that  _ hell _ with that  _ monster _ . 

As soon as the lift returns, he dashes inside, swallows his fears and descends into his worst nightmares.

~Interlude End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiz is starting to get real ppl!
> 
> Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger. :3


	9. The Plague

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is dark. Sickness and death are referenced and utilized. There is trauma. Please read with discretion. I love you all. <3
> 
> Citation: Quote taken from Nikolaecuza "I was always taught by my mother, That the first thought that goes through your mind is what you have been conditioned to think. What you think next defines who you are."  
> Here's a link to a picture of the post, I couldn't find the original: https://www.reddit.com/r/tumblr/comments/3lkyz3/what_you_think_next_defines_who_you_are/

~Interlude~

She can feel the warm sun on her skin, feel the hot breeze, smell the dry dust in the air. Under her prone form, the itch of dry grass, the heat of sun baked earth. Off in the distance she can hear a herd of some kind of grazing animal, their playful calls to each other, their warning calls of possible danger. 

She cracks an eye, the sun bearing down on her is blinding and it takes several moments for her eyes to adjust. The heat is almost unbearable, rising from the ground in waves, distorting her view of the grazing animals in the distance. 

"Hmm, don't you think it's time to get up, little magician?" A smooth, deep motherly voice says to her right. The voice doesn’t startle her, but she does open her eyes fully and lulls her head toward the voice. There, lounging peacefully under some dry brush, is a large cheetah, tail twitching, two kittens playing with each other over the top of her. “Time is of the essence now. The universe doesn’t wait patiently for anyone. Even someone such as you.”

She sits up slowly, eyes the shade of the brush and crawls towards the mother cheetah to get out of the sun. The cheetah watches her with amused golden eyes, the kittens growl at each other and tumble off into the dust of what she realizes is a savannah. Large green mountains loom in the distance, over them a large thunderstorm that will never make its way onto the dry plains. 

Even with her magical abilities, this would be the first time speaking to the Chariot in person, she’s often heard her voice through the cards but there was something much more… intimidating about the Arcana, especially in her realm. The way she lounges in the shade, her claws sharp and permanently extended, belly fat from a recent kill, tail twitching in interest-or was it annoyance? She knew that even though the Arcana are often portrayed as humanoid, some still prefer the raw power of their animal forms. The Chariot, it seems, was one such Arcana. 

“What would the universe want from me, Chariot?” She asks warily.

One of the kittens comes and plops itself between the paws of the Chariot, and she lazily licks along the kitten’s head, the rumble of a purr making her chest vibrate visibly. “Not my place to know the why, little magician. I’m just here to light the fire under your ass to get you moving.” She gives her a cat grin.

She’s thrown off by the choice of language of the Arcana, though she shouldn’t be surprised by it, the Chariot will always say the things that are necessary to kickstart someone into action. She just always believed rough language was more for her sister than her. She aches to see her sister though, so maybe it wasn’t far off the mark to get her motivated to action. 

“Am I strong enough? I haven’t been awake long… the first real test of my emotions regressed me back into slumber.”

The Chariot gives an indignant click of her tongue, which is an odd sound to come from a cat. “You’re as strong as you want to be, Miranda. As strong as you need to be.” The Chariot stretches her neck and front paws, tumbling the kitten from her. “You will need to be strong. Also brave, and smart--”

“Bravery was always more of a Marion trait…” She mumbles, plucking a tuft of grass out of the ground.

The Chariot’s purr grows impossibly louder. “Bravery comes in different shapes and sizes, little magician.” Her eyes become more golden and sharp. “But your sister's bravery is running out.”

She startles at the Chariot’s change in intensity. “Marion needs me.” The Chariot doesn’t comment, only continues her purr. “She doesn’t remember me.” She says, deciding that looking into the cat’s eyes was too difficult and she looks down at the dirt instead. “How am I supposed to help her when I can’t talk to her, or let her see me? She’s so fragile right now…”

The purring stops suddenly, and she’s afraid to look up--she can feel the energy coming from the Chariot, the cat eyes baring down on her with something like disappointment or disdain. “You already know what to do, little magician, why are you running away?”

She can feel a pressure build in her throat and she swallows it back, luckily the heat of the savannah whisks away the moisture from her eyes. If she got another taste of the living realm, would she be able to relinquish control back over to her sister? Was it selfish to wish that, maybe, she could have some time alive again? To be back in the shop with Asra, like old times? She just wanted things to go back to normal. It hasn’t been long since she awoke, she had so little time with Asra... Guilt rises in her stomach, a tingle of shame shooting like lightning across her skin. Her sister was probably, maybe even literally, fighting for her life and all she wanted was comfort for herself, for some kind of illusion of normalcy. 

Marion deserved a second chance, she said as much to Asra… but doesn’t she as well? She said she was fine with being only in the Arcane realms, she spent a lot of time in them when she was alive anyway… It was different knowing she couldn’t go back. Why did it feel so wrong to think this way?

“Self preservation is instinct, don’t beat yourself up over wanting to live.” The Chariot says, standing up and stretching, her front legs long and claws intruding into Miranda’s field of vision. “A first thought is simply our conditioning; it’s the second thought, the correcting thought, that defines who you are.” She says as she walks away. She gives a low roar to her kittens and they come loping through the brush to dance between her thin legs. 

Miranda frowns as she watches the cheetahs walk away into the heat waves a few yards away, their forms distorting and vanishing. She’ll never get used to how the Arcana operate, even knowing they are archetypes doesn’t prepare you for how odd it is to interact with them. 

What the Chariot said though… Instinct and conditioning. Was her second thought shame then? Guilt? Knowing the right thing would be to help her sister despite her wants?

She’s not sure how long she sat in the shade, sometimes it was hard to tell what amount of time passes in the Arcane realms, but she was startled from her thoughts by a rustling off to her right. She turns and meets the gaze of a gazelle fawn, curiously staring at her from within the brush. Immediately her heart melts at it’s cuteness, but she resists the urge to reach out and try to touch it. Slowly and warily the fawn walks out of the brush, giving her a wide berth, but eyeing her with curiosity all the same. Her small smile forms an “o” in surprise as another fawn of the same size comes tromping through the brush with little regard for stealth, it ignores her as it rears up on it’s sibling in play, wildly swinging its head about and prancing with thin, nobby unsteady legs. The first fawn responds immediately and they dart about in play. She can see the mother now, some distance away, warily watching the scene with her fawns, ears twitching.

Twin fawns. Her smile returns. Alright, Chariot, she gets it, no need to send subtle imagery. 

She stands and dusts herself off. She has a sister to help.

Exiting the lift, they pause a moment to take the smothering mask from their face. It’s been a long time since they’ve been down here. Too long. They had almost forgotten the smell. It was stale now, but promises of the rancid and fetid scents were there, waiting to be stirred and awoken. They would have this place back up and running again soon. They just had to bide their time.

They walk through the dressing room with leisure, smiling to themselves when they hear the lift operating again behind them. The sorry fool just can’t help himself it seems. It’s no matter, they’ll lock him up in his cell and let the Countess have him. Maybe this time, he’ll actually die and they’ll have the chance to crack open his skull. They will have to be sure to have a table ready. 

The thought of doing another dissection sends a tingle through their body, and they smile with pointed teeth. It was certainly time for another, and if all went to plan, there would be many, many more to come. 

Entering the chamber, the theatre, they see 017 standing idly by it’s cage. This pleases them immensely, bringing back more nostalgia of better times, more interesting times. The state of the room however, is displeasing. Time was not kind to the cleanliness of the tables. Dust a quarter of an inch thick is everywhere, even on the floor. 017’s footprints are easily seen. 

They walk the circumference of the room, slowly lighting the torches along the walls. They would have to bring the chandelier down to light, but that wasn’t important for the moment. They come to a stop next to 017. Uneasy footsteps alert them to the doctor’s arrival, and with an amused smile they turn to him. He’s donned a plague mask, and this makes their smile widen.

“Doesn’t it just bring back the most pleasant memories, 069? It will need some work, but soon it will regain its purpose. The shows will continue, and if you’re lucky, you can draw them again as you once did.” They don’t expect him to respond, so when he says nothing they continue. “Though, I suppose you’ll most likely be arrested for the Count’s murder and executed. Perhaps you’ll be my first show then, my grand debut. I’ll have 017 assist me. It will be interesting to dissect someone who survived the plague.” 

The doctor’s body is shaking, but when wasn’t he? He never seemed comfortable, spoke too much, had too much energy. It was most fortuitous that the doctors wore the masks, if they had to watch their facial expressions all day, it would get tiresome. 

“017, escort the doctor to his office.”

It responds so quickly and smoothly that they sigh in content. Things are starting to come back together as they should be. The doctor doesn’t know what to do as it approaches him, finally settling on defeat as it grabs his arm roughly and he doesn’t fight as it leads him to one of the doors lining the far wall. It deposits him in the cell, slamming the door shut, the echo reverberating in the circular room. 

“What are you going to do with her?” His voice comes, shaky, through the bars of the wooden door. 

“What a meaningless question, 069. It was the center of my work before, and it shall be once again. This time, however, I think it will be exclusive to myself. Seeing as how you doctors ruined it. Such opportunities, lost! Not again.” They walk towards the cell door, peeking in at the doctor. He stands just out of arm's reach, mask now resting on the messy cot. He stares at them with a wide eye. 

“I do suppose that I should have it prepped. The outside world is unclean, and it seems to be very unkempt.” They turn to it, scoffing at its state of attire. They grasp a tendril of brunette hair with disgust, they sniff it and their nose scrunches in distaste. Their expert olfactory glands catch the scent of musk and pheromones. Quickly they pluck a cotton ball from their apron, wetting it with a small bottle of distilled water. They pinpoint where the smell is strongest, and gives its leg a generous swipe of the cotton. They bring it to their nose and snarl in disapproval. 

“Semen. Repugnant.” They look up at the doctor, holding the cotton ball out. “Yours I presume?” The tinge of a blush on his face is enough of an answer. They snarl and toss the cotton ball at the doctor. “Come, 017, you need to be sanitized. It seems it needs to be done immediately.” 

He can’t keep from shaking. Memory after memory has flashed in his mind. Visions of grotesque scenes of sickness, death, dissection. Faces, so many faces flash, in any number of expressions, except the eyes. The eyes are all red, lifeless. Bodies everywhere, tainted with the plague, sickly thin, arms and faces lined with red skin, outward manifestations of the plague. Screams, coughing, crying. So much crying. 

And then the skittering. The endless skittering of the beetles, red carapaces reflecting light as they devour the dead that are discarded. The smell. The sight. He feels sick. Instead of trying to understand what his mind is showing him he stands at the door to a cell… no, his  _ office _ , holding the bars before him in a vice like grip, watching helpless as Marion stands in the center of the room waiting for Valdemar to return. 

All he can hope at this point is for Pasha to have gotten a message to Asra, and that Asra can work some kind of miracle. He wasn’t sure what he was going to accomplish with accompanying Marion to her fate… he just knew he couldn’t let her face it alone. In the end, it seems she will still face it alone. He can do nothing locked in this cell--no  _ office _ , he keeps correcting himself. This was his office during the plague, where he did an untold amount of indescribable heinous things. Terrible things. Things he can’t believe he took part in…

Valdemar returns from the dressing room with a bottle of some kind of antiseptic and large bristle brush. They reach into their apron and pull out a pair of long sharp scissors. Quickly with deft hands they begin to cut Marion’s hair, as short as they can get it to her scalp. They are not gentle about it, they tug and pull each strand, making her head jerk in the direction of the tug. His heart is in his throat and it’s suffocating, he can only make a choked sound as he watches. 

Once satisfied with their work, they turn to her clothes and cut them off of her body, leaving not even a stitch of clothing on her. He grits his teeth in anger. They ready the brush with the antiseptic and begin to scrub her down roughly, leaving her skin red and raw. They give her an order that he doesn’t catch and Marion walks to where there’s a basin of running water, water tinged red and they rinse her off with the cold water. 

Valdemar pulls something from their pocket, looks like some kind of leather strap with a buckle. They smile fondly at it, stroking the leather with their rubber gloves in what almost could be construed as reverence. They place the strap over Marion’s eyes, and he stares at her in shock.

He knows that leather band…

_ He can’t help but stare at the girl in the cage. It’s unnerving to him how she’s able to remain so still, so silent. When she does move, it’s by instruction only. He can see the toll the plague has taken on her naked body, thin, frail, discolored. She probably has the red sclera too, though her eyes are hidden by a strange leather strap, just enough of a slit in it for her to see through. He wonders how much time she has left… _

_ Day after day he comes back expecting to not see her. Expecting to hear of her death, and yet… there she is.  _

_ He’s excited. He’s just placed his request to have time with Subject 017. Quaestor Valdemar has decided to make her available for experiments. She’s the first subject to have lasted this long, surely he’ll be able to make progress on his blood theory if he can just get access to her… _

_ Finally, his request has been granted! He dashes about, trying to get ready for his time with 017. He has to make sure he gets the best specimens of leeches for this. He has to make the absolute best of this chance. The people of Vesuvia are counting on them.  _

_ It’s awkward to talk to it… her. He still can’t go along with the other doctors and call her an it. There’s got to be something of the person left inside. They say she volunteered for this. He wonders if she knew what she was getting into… _

He gasps as the memories release him. He sags down, legs barely able to hold him, he hangs from his arms for a moment, regaining his bearings. 

Oh, oh god. What has he done? His stomach rolls, his head pounds, and he fights back the impulse to vomit. He’s a monster. Just like Valdemar.

“Much better.” Valdemar says. “You can open your eyes now, 017.” He looks back out of the bars. Valdemar has dried her off, looking over their work. “Now, I have other business to attend to. Wait in your cage.” Marion turns on her heel and walks over to one of the iron cages along the wall, enters it and closes it with a creak. Valdemar walks over to him. “Undoubtedly, word has made it to the Countess of your presence in the palace.” They grin at him, their pointed teeth glinting in the torchlight. “So, look forward to facing the music, as they say.” 

He watches them as they exit the theatre and close the door to the dressing room. He can feel more than hear the rumble of the lift. He looks over at Marion, as she stands still, so very, very still. 

“I’m so sorry, Marion.” His voice comes out thick, “For everything.”

~Interlude End~

Minutes feel like hours. Hours feel like seconds. Time has no meaning. I watch the flicker of the torch light on the door to Julian’s cell. I can’t see inside the barred window. The angle is too sharp, and it’s too dark inside. I want to see him. I want to know he’s okay.

How could he be? He’s stuck in a cell, waiting for the guards to come and arrest him officially. He just watched me get man handled by what I can only describe as a  _ demon _ . It’s over, the gig is up. We failed, and it’s my fault. I did this to us.

It’s cold, Valdemar didn’t dry my body well, and being naked is a new sensation for me. Or is it? All of this isn’t making sense, but deep down I know this isn’t the first time I’ve been down here. Memories flutter just on the edge of my consciousness, and I have a feeling they’ve been there for some time. This whole situation should be shocking the hell out of me, yet I feel numb to it. It’s unnerving and despairing. And now I’m going to get Julian killed. 

Unless Asra can come through with something. 

I want to put my faith in him, but it’s hard to have hope in this shit hole. 

I wish I could see Julian. It’s killing me knowing he’s there and not being able to see him. I’d even be fine if he was yelling at me, blaming me for getting him into this mess. I just want to see him. Please, Julian…

I can feel the chains, yes chains, around my torso tighten. I’m not sure when they appeared on me, maybe they were the strange sensation back at the shop, but there they are. Black as night, hot and cold at the same time, and they move on their own volition. Almost as if they respond to my emotions rather than my movements. This spell is much stronger than the one before. Muriel was right, they had all that time to conjure up a working spell, it was just a matter of time before they found one that could override Muriel’s protections. Or maybe they’ve been there from the beginning. I don’t know. 

Magic. Yay. 

I hear the operation of the lift again, and I wait with bated breath to see who comes in. To my horror, two figures walk through the door, Valdemar and a guard. This is it then. This is where they take him… 

They approach his cell, say a few words that I can’t make out. The guard opens the door, Julian steps out, surrenders his hands for shackles. His head is down, his curls masking his uncovered eye. Please look at me.

They speak for a moment longer, Julian nods his head to them. Valdemar walks back towards the dressing room, the guard grabs Julian by the upper arm and leads him away. 

Please look at me, I need to see you.

Valdemar’s eyes are alive with malice, I can see their smile under their mask. My chest constricts as I realize this might be my last time seeing him, the chains tighten and it’s hard to breathe. 

Julian, Julian  _ please _ . 

They disappear into the dressing room, Julian not even as much as a glance towards me. Valdemar nods to the guard as they pass and closes the door behind them. Moments later I hear the lift operating. Two trips. Then silence.

No… not silence. I can hear them, and I know this time it’s more than just a hallucination. 

Valdemar has taken their mask off again and they pull an old rusty lever as they walk by, heading over to the half circle pit. The lid slides with little resistance into its recess and the sound rises more clearly.

_ Skittering. _

Red carapaces emerge from the pit, their antennae twitching, feeling their way. Valdemar watches them, a misty look on their face. They grab a beetle with a pair of long tweezers, the beetle flails about and twitches trying to escape.

Slowly, they approach me in my cage, holding the beetle up for me to see. "It's good to see they're doing fine," they say as they examine the beetle turning it from side to side. "It's been a while since they've eaten. That will be remedied soon enough."

They give me a wide pointed teeth smile. "Doesn't mean we can't get a head start. Instead of Subject 017, would you like to be called Patient Zero?"

What? I look at the beetle again, then look over to the pit. At the red water that they rinsed me with, having come from the wall where the pit emerges from. 

Oh fuck  _ oh fuck _ . This is the source, and it's already in the water supply of the city. I think back to my musings outside of the Raven, that time seems so far away now. How stupid I was to think it as red dye…

"Open your mouth, 017.  _ Bon appetit _ ."

_ They’ve left me in the dungeons for a long time. Any attempt at keeping the days are foiled by the fact that there isn’t a window to see daylight and I’m positive they don’t feed me daily. I mean, why would they? It would be a lost cause. I’m dying and we all know it. _

_ I look down at my hand and frown, even in the very low lighting of the torch down the hall, and what little of the light comes through the bars of the door, I can see it. I can see the red tinge of the skin on my hands, snaking up my forearms. I can feel the constriction of my chest as I try to breathe, the air passing through my trachea like sandpaper. If I had access to a mirror, I know I’d see the tell-tale red sclera stare back at me. Surprisingly, the cough hasn’t started, and that’s what gives me just a hint of hope… _

_ But I shouldn’t hope. No one survives this. They’ll be here soon to drag me off to the Lazaret to burn. All I have to do is patiently wait.  _

_...I wonder if Miranda knows I’m here? If Asra had any sense, he’d have dragged her away kicking and screaming by now. I hope he has. Asra hasn’t been one to stick around when there’s danger, his life as an orphan before Auntie took him in taught him that. Let’s just hope his instincts win out and he can get her out of here. Miranda… she has a good future ahead of her. She’s always been a good person, a good sister. Not… not like me. A trouble maker through and through. That’s why I’m here in the dungeons… even when I try to do good things… I end up fucking it up. It’s too late for me, but she has a chance, she can do things right. I have faith in her. _

_ I hear a door open and slam, footsteps going down steps. Sounds like only one set. I cock my ear to listen better. The footsteps slowly make their way closer. Suddenly the light is blocked from the bars in the door, and I watch the shadow of the person with a weary eye. The person is tall, wearing some kind of weird head dress with two points. _

_ "Marion Casteel." A cold, arid and muffled voice says my name. I peer at the dark shape, but I can't make out anything but shadow. "Born and raised in Vesuvia. Younger twin to Miranda Casteel, who is also the only living relative. Charged with illegally distributing medical equipment without a license: three counts, drunk and disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest. Would you like to comment on these charges?” _

_ “Nope.” I rasp out, I’m not sure if my voice is shit because of disuse or because of the plague destroying my body. “Do the charges really matter when I’m at death’s door anyway?” _

_ “Proper documentation always matters.” The voice says. I hear the jingle of keys, and the bolt on my cell door releases with a dull groan. The door opens and light floods into the cell, I squint away from it. The shadow enters the cell, but I still can’t make out any kind of characteristics of the person. A cold steely grip wrenches at my jaw, and they turn my face side to side. “It seems the reports are true. You are infected with the Red Plague.” _

_ “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” I croak, jerking my head away at the slightest release of pressure from them.  _

_ “You’ve been held here for two weeks, indicating infection taking place at or around that two week mark.” They say, more to themselves really than to me. _

_ Two weeks? I’ve been down here two weeks? ...I’ve survived with the Red Plague for two weeks? _

_ “I could have just as easily been infected by one of the guards.” I ground out. No one survives the plague for more than three days. _

_ “I’ve already eliminated those variables. None of the Palace Guard is infected.” _

_ “Then from the food they’ve given me.” I argue. _

_ “Negative, none of the cooks or servers are infected.” _

_ I growl, my patience with this person… this tactless, uncaring person… “No one survives the plague for more than three days, so it had to have been from one of your people!”  _

_ “You are incorrect that no one survives the plague more than three days, some make it to seven, but that is why I’m here.” My eyes have started to adjust to the lighting finally and I can make out a white surgical mask on the person’s face, a white lab coat with a red beetle brooch, long black rubber gloves, and black apron. So, they’ve sent a doctor then, to diagnose me and send me off. About time. “I’ve come to make you an offer you cannot refuse.” _

_ I snort, “Then it’s not an offer, it’s an order. I’m not in the business of taking orders. Hence the resisting arrest.” _

_ “You are in a unique position. You are an outlier of the common timeline of the Red Plague. Since your death is indeed eminent, though who can say when, I’ve come to offer you a proposal. Your charges are thus that the Count is seeking recompense and fines, of which you will not live long enough to repay. These fines would then fall to your only living relative, your sister Miranda.” _

_ What?  _

_ “If she is unable to supply the amount necessary for your transgressions, the Count will be forced to seize her apothecary shop located in Center City. If that doesn’t cover the amount, other actions will be taken.” _

_ What? No, no! That’s all Miranda has! “That corrupt mother fucker…” I close my eyes. I’m so sorry Miranda. I’ve really fucked it all up this time. Even when I’m dead, you’re not going to be able to escape my failings.  _

_ “On to my offer,” They say, I can discern a tinge of amusement in their voice. “Submit yourself as a test subject. Donate yourself to science--” _

_ “Donate myself to science? Ha! That’s rich. I’m already in your dungeons, why even posture that I’d have a choice? Everyone knows about the people you doctors steal in the dark of night to run experiments on.” I laugh bitterly. It’s one of the reasons why I was procuring and distributing medical supplies illegally. No one trusts the doctors anymore, once they know you’re infected you’re either dead, or you disappear and are never seen again. “Why the pretense of choice, when I clearly don’t have one.” _

_ They are silent for a long moment. I squirm under the intense look they give me, finally noting that they have red eyes. Red, cold, creepy eyes.  _

_ “For what I want you for,” they say, taking off the surgical mask and startling me by how close they get to me. They take a deep breath, seeming to take my scent in, which is fucking bizarre considering I’m infected with plague. My stomach sinks down past my belly button in dread, I lean as far away from them as I can. “I must have your consent. I’ve already worked up a deal with Count Lucio. If you submit yourself to science, your debt will be considered paid.” _

_ I glare at them in disbelief. “And if I refuse?” _

_ “I will still force you to be my test subject, but your sister will be forced to pay your debts.” They watch me with wide, disturbing eyes. They are bent down to my seated level with an odd angle to their body that just isn’t… natural. I swallow hard, pain lancing down my throat.  _

_ “What would I be consenting to?” My voice cracks as I ask.  _

_ “Total immobilization. Complete control of your body to me. You will obey every command given to you. You will submit to examination and experimentation from myself and my colleagues. You will no longer have a choice. You will have no freedom. You as you are now, will no longer exist outside of your own mind.” _

_ I stare at them, shock stalling my breath. They are unnervingly still, and patient. “How? How am I supposed to do this? What you ask is impossible.” _

_ “A deal. With a deal, nothing is impossible.” _

_ A deal? My eyes widen. Oh.  _ Oh. __

_ “Will my…  _ cooperation _ possibly help to find a cure for the plague?”  _

_ They spread their hands in a placating gesture, a small content smile on their face. “It’s what countless doctors, magicians and apothecaries have come from all over the continent to do, isn’t it?” _

_ Could I not only keep Miranda’s life from being ruined by my shitty actions, but also help contribute to the cure? Can I somehow turn this around? Not die in vain? I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and I look away, not willing to let this monster of a person see my emotions.  _

_ “How do I know you’ll hold your end of the bargain? That… Count Lucio will hold his end?” I ask. _

_ From their apron pocket they procure a scroll, they quickly unroll it and hold it up for me to see, holding it slightly angled to catch the light properly. I skim the document, it looks to be a legal ledger of debt paid in full, signed at the bottom in deep red ink by Count Lucio. Under his signature is his seal, and under that a place for my signature. I look back and forth from the spot for my signature to the doctor before me. It only occurs to me now that I know who this is. This is Quaestor Valdemar. No wonder they have this kind of pull with Count Lucio.  _

_ “Everything is in order, all I need is your signature.” Their voice, for the first time since they’ve spoken to me, is warm with excitement.  _

_ “Do you have a quill?”  _

_ They hand me a knife and a quill. I still in confusion. _

_ “All deals must be signed in blood.” They say. Right, that makes sense… Creepy though. _

_ I cut my left thumb enough to get a decent dollop of blood and sign my name in the space provided. Immediately my back stiffens, I lose control over my limbs and facial expression. I stare at Quaestor Valdemar before me, unable to move. I watch the color drain from the world around me, the browns and yellows of the dungeon walls, lit from the torches, dull to nothing but shades of gray. Except their eyes. I can still see the vivid red color of their eyes, and the two names on the contract signed in blood. _

_ The Quaestor gives a horrific wide smile, showing off a disturbing mouthful of pointed jagged teeth. _

_ “It’s a pleasure doing business with you Marion.” _

_ What the fuck have I just done? _

I open my eyes with a start, they burn as a foreign substance obscures my vision. I’m in some kind of liquid. I can feel it slide against my skin as I thrash about, trying to find the surface. My lungs burn in need of air, and when I break the surface I gasp and cough, trying not to panic. I take several deep breaths, treading water slowly, and I look around. It’s dark, the water is dark, the only light is a sliver of moon hanging low in the sky. To my left I can just barely make out the slight crashing of waves, and the glint of sand reflecting the moon’s light. A beach. 

Without thinking I make my way to the beach, swimming diagonal to it in case of a possible riptide. It turns out to be unnecessary, the waters are calm, I easily gain purchase onto the sands and walk slowly onto the beach. I look down at myself, upper torso exposed to the cool night air making my nude body erupt into gooseflesh. Why am I naked? Where am I? I sink back down into the warm water and I eye the beach. There’s no sign of civilization along the visible stretch of sand, nor on the dark island beyond. No light. 

After taking a moment to build up my courage, I stand again and head onto the beach. It doesn’t take long for my skin to dry and the shiver to lessen to nothing. I can feel my hair tickle along my neck, and I grab it in confusion. I thought…

_ “--you need to be sanitized. It seems it needs to be done immediately.” _

I shudder at the memory of Valdemar washing my body roughly, the scratch of the bristle brush stinging along my skin. Them tearing at my hair, cutting it off in large chunks as I watch screaming on the inside but unable to even so much as whimper in protest. Was… that a dream? Or was this a dream? 

I look up at the moon on the horizon, it flickers brightly and I frown. The moon shouldn’t be able to do that-- there’s a loud crash of trees being bent and broken on the island behind me and I turn, eyes wide to stare up at a giant beetle, the moon glinting red on its carapace. I stare at it in shock, feet firmly planted in the sand, muscles seizing in panic. It quickly clears the edge of the trees and skitters over to me, despite its size it moves with ease in jerky unnerving movements. I can hear the clicking of the sections of exo-skeleton as they rub together. It grazes my leg with a twitching antenna and it freezes, turning in place in that weird way that only beetles seem to do, and it flutters its antennae about, grazing all over my body. I suppress a shudder. 

Its mandibles twitch to life, tasting the air. It rears back readying a strike with a flutter of shining membraned wings and I raise a hand to defend myself, bracing for the pain, cursing myself for my fear rendering me helpless. 

There’s another bright flash, this time right in front of me. I peek from behind my hand to see a glowing figure standing just before me. My attention is ripped from the figure as a high pitched squeal stabs into my eardrums and is quickly silenced with a disturbing crunch. Shaking, I look back at the glowing figure, in her hand is a red beetle squished and oozing from between her tightly clenched fingers. She’s glowing brightly, pulsing slowly, but I can tell she’s a she from her lack of clothing and the shape of her body. She reaches forward, and I can hear metal creaking, the sound echoing out into the ocean beyond. 

The figure reaches up, grabs something from her face, stares at her empty hand in confusion. She drops whatever it was, then shakes the remnants of the beetle’s corpse from her other hand. She takes a step forward, and I scramble to get out of her way, her shoulder barely grazes mine--

_ \--magic courses through the underground chamber, her magic. With pulses of color, shapes, runes, intricate designs form and dance on the walls around her in waves, igniting the chamber. The tables and bottles underneath shake and clink with the pulses, dirt looses itself from the ceiling, making the air cloudy-- _

I stagger back, winded from the sudden change of scenery and I stare at her as she walks on undeterred. She shakes her head with long sweeping motions as hair grows and cascades down her back, her nude body suddenly dressed in a simple peasant dress. Her whole form still glows, it’s an impossible white, I can only make out features as she turns and there’s contrast between her brightness and the darkness of the island, ocean and sky. 

She holds her hand out, and the island shakes with a pulse of energy she emits from her hand. She continues forward, and I trail behind her, being sure to not get within touching distance again. I watch her as she walks, stops, and interacts with a world I cannot see. Somehow, she never seems to leave the beach, always turning before making it into the treeline, or before she enters the water. 

Then, just as suddenly as she was there, she was gone. I look around, startled. Even in the sand there is no trace of her footsteps. It was like she never existed. I can’t help but immediately feel her loss. Who was she? She seemed familiar, but so foreign at the same time… 

A faint breeze blows by, which normally wouldn’t bother me with clothes on. In my naked state, I can feel a shiver chase up my spine. I hug myself and rub my arms to keep the chill at bay. I’m exposed to the elements here on the beach, with no clothing and no shelter, I could easily be in for a long cold night. I look to the treeline and frown. That does not look like a safe place, especially since that giant beetle came from there… What other choice do I have? To the east is nothing but open ocean, and to the west a dark forest of  _ who knows what _ could be inside. 

It’s not much of a choice. I make my way towards the trees, wishing that at this moment I was capable of conjuring up a light source like I’ve seen Asra do. Maybe if I had some charcoal and paper I could make a circle spell for a flame… I'm at the edge of the treeline now, the sand of the beach trailing into the trees and disappearing under the brush of the forest floor. I take a tentative step in, off in the distance I can hear the howl of a wolf and I freeze. 

Nope.  _ Nope.  _ This is a bad idea. I turn on my heel.

_ Fuck. _

The beach is gone. Behind me is nothing but further dense forest. The only evidence that there was a beach is the small spot on the forest floor where the sand is still between my toes. I look up, the moon has moved quickly in the sky to hover and shine through the leaves of the trees. The moon's phase has changed, it has waxed larger. 

What the hell is this place? What kind of dreamscape am I in? 

One that has wolves, apparently. 

I swallow and glance about nervously. At least with the moon as high as it is, I can see decently enough not to trip on branches and exposed roots. The forest floor is not kind to my bare feet as I begin to make my way between the trees. 

I haven’t gone far when I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I pause, stilling like a deer, and wait to see it again. There! Dashing about the trees is a small slightly glowing white figure. There’s giggling echoing in the trees, like two or more little girls. I can feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. I see another flash of white, followed by another figure decidedly  _ less _ glowing and  _ less _ white, more of a faint gray. They dash around, giggling and playing, and I realize they’re children. Maybe 6 or 7 years old. Same height, same build. Different colors. 

Spectres. They’re spectres. They make no noise in the brush of the forest, they avoid the trees, but they don’t trip or lag on the terrain. And they don’t seem to mind my presence at all, if I’m even visible to them to begin with. I watch them warily, not daring to move. They play idly, showing each other things and chasing the other about until they disappear deeper into the forest. 

I take a deep breath and continue my trek, head swiveling to look out for the child-like spirits. 

I cross a small brook, trying to use rocks and branches as stepping stones, I'm sure that water is  _ ice cold _ . I grab a tree branch to assist in my crossing, and there's a loud scream that echoes off the trees. I slip on the rock I'm on and nearly tumble backwards into the water. I cling to the branch for dear life and manage to get my clumsy ass back to steady feet. I freeze again, peering around waiting for a banshee to rush me or something.

The forest is eerily silent. 

I clear the brook and continue. I'm funneled into a crevice between two large rocks and cautiously I enter it. It’s not overgrown, so I think it’s more of a footpath for critters. Maybe even that wolf I heard. I peek around the edge of the first rock, and I’m startled to hear a whimper and a cry. 

“ _ Momma… _ ” a small voice moans out, followed by a sniffle. 

I look around for the little girls. They’re easy to spot, with their glowing bodies. They sit huddled near a bush, the white girl is curled in a ball crying, the gray one is hunched down over the other trying to comfort her.

“ _ Mira, don’t cry… _ ” the gray girl says, trying not to cry herself. 

“ _ Momma… Papa… _ ” 

The girls still don’t seem to notice me, and I’m not sure if I should try to make my presence known. I exit the rocks carefully and walk past, they continue to sniffle as I pass. There’s a flash of light and they’re gone. I look up and I see that the moon has waxed larger. That’s very unsettling. 

“ _ Mira! Mari! Come on darlings, it’s time to eat. _ ” I’m startled by the voice and turn quickly to come face to face with a new spectre just as they walk right through me. Unlike my first encounter with the glowing adult on the beach, this time I just feel a chill of cold as I make contact with them. They don’t seem to have even noticed it. 

This spectre is a dull beige color, looks to be much older than the two girls. I wonder what their relation could be--

“ _ Auntie, look! I can make Mari’s hair turn blue! _ ” I turn towards the voice and the two girls have reappeared, only this time they seem older by a few years. The white girl is clapping in excitement, while the gray girl is prancing around, flipping her hair about her to show off what I suppose is blue hair, though her color hasn’t changed any. 

“ _ Very good, Mira. You look beautiful, Mari. Come eat. _ ”

The three of them walk off and dissipate into the trees.

What the hell is this? What could be causing these spectres to be stuck here? Usually there’s some kind of reason, but… I’ve never heard of spectres aging. This is more like a timeline of events. 

What  _ is _ this place?

The white spectre, Mira I suppose I can call her, comes running back through the trees giggling to herself. She’s even older now, probably close to 15 or 16. The gray spectre, Mari, appears next to me looking like she’s working on some kind of herbs, with a mortar and pestle. 

Mari looks up confused. “ _ What are you all giggly about? _ ”

“ _ Oh, Mari! I met a boy today _ -!” Mira swoons and leans against something in their time and place, it looks odd to see her leaning against nothing. “ _ He was so mysterious, and  _ powerful _. _ ”

“ _ Powerful? _ ”

“ _ In magic. He had the most amazing deck of Tarot cards. I asked him to read my fortune, and my future was the Lovers! _ ” Again, Mira swoons. Mari doesn’t look impressed. 

“ _ Any card reader worth their salt would project Lover’s as a future for a teenage girl. I hope you didn’t pay much for the reading. _ ”

Mira pouts and Mari sighs and sets down the mortar and pestle. 

“ _ Was he at least cute? _ ” Mari asks and Mira’s face lights up. 

“ _ Oh you have no idea~ _ ” They both break into fits of teenage giggles as they fade away.

Mari reappears, again looking older maybe 18, she’s lugging a large sack of goods on her back and she opens an invisible door. The older she gets the more familiar she looks… 

Three spectres appear suddenly, talking amongst themselves. Mira, the aunt and a new spectre, one that glows a deep lavender. This spectre looks  _ very _ familiar--

“ _ Mari, you’re home! You were gone a long time on this trip. You missed the Masquerade! _ ” The aunt turns to her first smiling. 

Mari pauses and looks amongst the three. “ _ I did? Oh, bummer. I managed to get us a lot of supplies though. _ ” She walks in and sets her bag down on thin air.

“ _ When Miranda said she had a twin sister, I didn’t realize how identical you would be. How am I going to tell the two of you apart? _ ”

The aunt laughs and grabs the two girls, each by a shoulder. “ _ They may look alike, but they act completely different, you’ll figure them out in no time Asra. _ ”

Asra? Like,  _ Asra _ Asra? I look at the lavender spirit and sure enough, it looks just like him. A younger him, but you can’t mistake that cloud-like hair, those dimples. 

Wait… If that’s Asra, then… That’s me… that’s my Aunt Ravini. And that’s…

There’s another bright flash from the moon above, lighting the whole area in white, drowning out the forms before me. When the light dies, I can see it’s now a half moon. What happens when it’s full? 

" _ Marion, not again… _ "

The gray spectre is back, she turns wildly at the mention of our name, she watches with wide eyes as Auntie walks slowly from the trees towards her. Without any warning Auntie slaps Marion hard across the face. I feel it as if I were hit.

" _ How dare you… no more Marion. This stops here. _ "

" _ Auntie, you don't understand… _ " Marion pleads quietly as she nurses her cheek.

" _ I'm done trying to understand you, Marion. If you need the money, take it. But don't come back. You're no longer welcome in my home. _ "

" _ A-Auntie… _ "

The beige spectre holds up her hand to silence the other. " _ The world is falling apart around us, and all you can think of is yourself. Leave. Don't come back. _ "

She does and Auntie fades away. She stops a short distance away, looks like she's knocking on a door. A light pink spectre appears, and she looks shocked. 

" _ Marion…? _ "

" _ Tabby… can I stay with you? Just for a little bit... _ " 

" _ Of course, you know you're welcome here. Pops will be excited to see you. _ " 

Marion snorts. " _ You mean he'll be excited to see what kind of trouble I'm in. _ " 

The pink spectre shrugs and smiles. They dissipate. 

" _ What do you want, Asra? _ " Marion says, she appears to my left, she seems to be looking out at something in the distance.

" _ I have a letter for you from Miranda. _ "

" _ She didn't want to come see me herself? _ " Her voice is cold.

" _ She's… just read the letter. _ " He holds it out to her. She turns and takes it from him. He hesitates just a moment before he shakes his head and walks away.

Marion watches him leave, then opens the letter. She gasps, chokes on a cry and falls to her knees. She begins to weep. 

I take a step forward, reaching out to her. What's in the letter? She fades away before I can reach her. 

Voices start to sound from all around the forest. At first it's hard to make out what they're saying but as they get louder I can make them out.

" _ It happened so quickly-- _ "

" _ What do you mean just three days? _ "

" _ We don't know how it's spreading-- _ "

" _ The nobles are hoarding all the food and medicine-- _ "

" _ The plague doctors have arrived-- _ "

" _ Marion, you have to get me more alcohol, soap and needles-- _ "

" _ I can get ya whatcha need kid, but it'll cost ya-- _ "

" _ Rory, no! You bitch, you got my brother sick-- _ "

" _ They're sending the sick to the Lazaret to die-- _ "

" _ Look at all the smoke, are they burning the bodies? _ "

" _ So many sick-- _ "

" _ So many dying-- _ "

" _ I need more supplies, Marion, it's getting rough out there-- _ "

I hear footsteps in the brush. I turn to see dark silhouettes walking in the trees. These are real. I can feel my blood run cold. There are so many, coming in from the north. The first few faces come into the light, and the moon flashes again. I can't look up to see if the phase has changed, I'm too struck by the sickened appearances of the faces.

They're familiar faces, though I can't place them. They're horrid and pale. Thin. Gaunt. The sclera glow red, the skin around their eyes and hands are also red. They're all on death's door. 

They're all looking at me with pleading eyes, like I can save them. They open their mouths and they moan my name. A chorus of pleas, all reaching out to me.

And then there's the skittering, which turns into a dull roar of buzzing. They're coming… the beetles are coming.

The plague.

_ The plague _ .

I turn on my heel and I run. I run and I run, but the beetles are gaining. 

I burst through the trees into a small clearing lit by the moonlight. I slow down and stop near the center, trying to catch my breath. I hear the skittering and the buzzing, it comes closer and closer. I turn slowly, chest heaving. How much longer can I run? How much longer until I have nothing left? It feels like I’ve been running for hours. My legs are shaking, barely holding me upright. From within the trees I make out more figures walking towards me. It’s not the plague ridden people as before. This time, it’s the doctors in white uniforms, white beaked masks, red glass eyes glinting with the now full moon. At the head is Valdemar, tall and imposing, smiling at me with sharp teeth. 

“Done running, 017?” They ask. The doctors begin lining up next to them and stopping a few meters away. Pain flares in my head, I'm remembering more and more of my time as Valdemar's pet. As the doctors clear the trees, I recognize them by their numbers, remembering the color of their hair, how tall they were, their body types, all the things that ring in my skull as they emerge in my consciousness. There’s 042, 057, 083, 069… 

069.

My eyes lock onto him, one of the tallest of the doctors, giving Valdemar a run for their money. His hair shines bright, and my heart stutters in my chest painfully. 069 was the only one who treated me like a human being, the only one that I looked forward to seeing. The only one I trusted. Pain erupts in my head, my vision flashing white hot. I grab my head and groan.

“Marion?” I hear him call. How does he know my name?  _ They _ stripped me of my name… I look up through my fingers, alarmed that the doctors seem so close to me. “Marion!” 069 breaks ranks and runs towards me. Panic lances through me, and I can’t move my body. Oh no, not now. Please, I need to run. I need to  _ run _ !

He rips the mask from his face and tosses it to the ground carelessly. 

I stare at him, the pain in my head dulling and the confusion overflowing. 

Julian?

He skids to a stop in front of me, grabbing my shoulders and nearly barrelling me over. He looks back over his shoulder at the doctors then back to me, gray eyes wide. “Now’s not the time to freeze up, darling.” He says, scooping me up effortlessly. “Now’s the time to run!” He takes off into the trees.

I barely have time to register what’s happening. Trees are flying by us much faster than they would with me running. I hold onto the collar of the white uniform for dear life, heart racing again, brain muddled with confusion. 069 is Julian? Julian is 069? Somehow I know it’s true. Their demeanors are too similar, their voices identical, that auburn hair… 

I look up at him, at his curls as they whip in the air as we fly through the trees. His eyes dash around as he plans his route, his breath coming in hard but steady. 

“Julian…” I breathe out, I can feel the moisture build in my eyes. “Is it really you?” Now isn’t the time to cry, get a grip.

He looks down and gives me a quick smile. “Can’t talk now,  _ draga _ .” He glances behind him and what he sees alarms him. He speeds up.

I look over his shoulder and see Valdemar and the doctors in pursuit. Valdemar looks like a demon, mouth wide and smiling with glee. Around their feet, beetles fly and crawl quickly, gaining on us just a little faster than the doctors. 

“Julian, stop, you have to put me down, they’re after me not you!” I struggle in his arms. 

His strides falter with my movements. “No can do! There’s no way I’m letting you face this alone.” Where have I heard that before?

“What are we going to do?” I ask, “There's nothing but forest here! Nowhere to go."

“Even forests don’t last forever.” He huffs, taking another glance back. 

That’s when I see something. It’s so surprising that I can’t place a name to it. “Julian, there’s something on your neck.”

“Hmm?” He isn’t paying attention, he’s trying to navigate us easily through the trees, doing his best to utilize his long legs to leap over large logs and rocks. It’s a bumpy ride, but he holds on to me with steady arms. 

I concentrate on trying to find the name for the strange object. Fear seizes my heart, but my brain hasn’t caught up. “It’s, it’s a rope of some kind…”

“What?”

“It’s a--” I’m cut off by him coming to an abrupt stop. We’ve cleared the trees and come up to a small cliff some 30 or so feet above a body of water. We both peek over the edge wearily. 

In the trees behind us, we can hear the doctors close in, but the beetles have reached us leaking out from the trees like water. His eyes harden as he watches them skitter towards us. “Nothing for it.” He says, adjusting me in his arms as he backs up.

“What?” I squeak out.

“You can swim right? Sure you can, you’ll have to.” He gives me a meek smile. “Trust me.”

“Julian…” I warn. My eyes dash back down to the rope at his neck. “Julian, wait--wait!”

He takes a few running steps to make sure we clear any of the ledges below and takes a flying leap off the cliff. My stomach is in my throat and I feel weightless for a second before gravity takes over and we plummet to the water below. I look out past his shoulder, to the rope trailing and coiling in the air behind us. 

That’s when the name slams into me, like a punch to the gut. 

It’s a noose.  _ It’s a noose _ . 

I reach up to grab the rope, I try to pry it from his neck, but it’s too tight and there’s no time. In a too slow, but too fast vision the rope behind us uncoils into a straight line, the slack lessening and lessening until…

With a snap, it’s taught, there’s a sickening crunch and with the momentum I’m ripped from his arms. I land in the water with a crash, it feels like I descend into the depths for too long, too deep for me to resurface without drowning. I kick and hold my breath, arms flailing to find the surface. I break the water with a gasp, almost choking. I quickly wipe my eyes and look up--

No, oh no. No, no, no-- “ _ Julian _ !” I scream, I can't stop screaming.

There, dangling some ten feet above the water’s surface Julian swings wildly from his neck, limbs limp and useless. Neck obviously broken. Up above on the cliff, I hear a cackling coming from Valdemar as they peek over the edge of the cliff. 

I can’t breathe, oh  _ fuck, oh fuck, Julian, JULIAN _ \--something grabs my leg and pulls me under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess where Marion is? I wasn't subtle about it. :D 
> 
> I'm starting to like the idea of ending chapters on cliffhangers, because I'm sadistic. Sorry not sorry. <3


	10. Interlude of Scheming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone for the long wait, this chapter was HARD to write and I haven't been in the best of places mentally (I'm okay though, no worries.) It's not my best work, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but it's the only way to move on with the story... so, I hope it's still enjoyable for you.

~Interlude~

Slowly, she follows where her magic leads her. It dances across the stone walls, lighting up the darker areas in an array of colors, leaving nothing to the imagination. She frowns as she takes in the multitude of hand prints along the walls. Larger prints higher up, smaller lower down. She feels an unsettling feeling in her stomach. This is a truly heinous place. She can feel the pain and fear bearing down on her, and it’s almost suffocating. 

This is where Marion was? Where she spent her last days during the plague? Naked, in a metal cage, blindfolded? It’s a truly dismal thought. This is also where Julian spent his days trying to find the cure? Now, his demeanor after he was called to the palace seemed so understandable. Why he was so adamant that she not follow him, why he insisted she stay at the clinic.

Her magic dances across a stairwell and draws it’s runes up along the wall up and up. She pauses at the bottom. There doesn’t seem to be another way out of this dungeon. She looks back out to the darkening tunnel that led to the haunting lift. 

How was he able to smuggle Marion’s body out? How hard it must have been for him to avoid all the other doctors, to sneak past Valdemar, to be sure to get her sister back to her? She was already eternally grateful to Julian, but now she properly understood the sheer momentous amount of courage and determination it had to take for him to do what he did. 

She hopes that while she’s allowed in the living world, that she would get the chance to see and thank him again. 

She turns back to the stairs and begins to ascend. The higher up she gets, the less the air is dank and cold, the smell is slightly familiar and when she enters the library she understands why. Books. So many books. Her magic doesn’t spread across them as she half expected. The library is dark in comparison to where she stands, her magic bright and pulsing around the wall to her right. Her magic has lit up a portal it seems. She can feel a familiar tinge of magic in it, and she smiles. Asra. This is a portal made by Asra. She reaches out and touches the faint coiled snake etched into the wall. She caresses it softly. 

The portal activates, and she can smell the sweet fragrance of plants, running water and sunlight. It will be nice to feel the sun on her skin again. Her smile widens and she steps through the portal. 

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust to the lighting. She blinks as she takes in the wooded area to her left. To her right is an immaculately landscaped hedge maze. The portal closes behind her with a sizzle and she looks behind to see the silhouette of the castle against the rays of the morning sun. She must still be on the palace grounds then. 

Who knew that kind of dark ugliness would be under something as beautiful as the palace. 

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she reaches out with her magic to find the right path to take. Instead of a path, she senses an intense feeling of loss. A pain so unbearable, so miserable that it brings tears to her eyes. She turns towards the feeling, chest constricting, making it hard to breathe. Slowly she walks towards the painful feeling, breathing in and out as calmly as she can. The feeling is crushing, almost mind numbing. 

She navigates the maze easily, coming upon a large white marble fountain, a statue of Capricorn in the middle. That’s not the source of the pain. She sends out her magic again and it leads her to a large willow tree, it’s hanging branches billowing slightly in the breeze. The area would be peaceful if not for the dreadful haze of pain, sorrow, and regret that hovers in the air. She frowns and touches the bark of the trunk lightly. She gasps as a vision of Asra manifests before her eyes. 

He’s kneeling by the base of the tree, dagger in hand. Where he is is dark, unlike the morning sunlight where she is. His head hangs low, obscuring his face, but he works with the dagger as he carefully carves something into it. She takes a step closer to him, and she can hear him mumbling to himself. She leans a little closer and she hears it. Her name.

“ _ Miranda. Miranda. Miranda. Miranda… _ ”

He’s chanting it over and over and over. His voice cracks with a choked sob, and he keeps chanting her name. It’s haunting. She can see the roots of the tree dampen under him with his tears. 

The vision dissipates and she rounds the tree to peer where he had been carving. There, in the tree carved hard and deep, looking years old now, is a carving of her name. 

“Oh, Asra.” She sighs and kneels down to touch it. She can feel the pain and sadness snake up her arm to her heart, but instead of letting it crush her, she embraces it with love. The feelings left in this tree were meant to help him cope with her loss. Though they are suffocating, they are a tribute to how much he loves her. She smiles at her name, and sends her wonder and love into the tree to surround it. Sadness and pain shouldn’t be the only feeling with loss, love should be there too. 

The next time he comes here, she wants him to feel her love for him. 

She stands, reaching out with her magic again, seeing what happens. It leads her away from the tree, through the maze. She follows it and reaches the clearing where the portal from the library led her. 

“--to the library just up ahead. I used it often while I was at the palace, working with your brother for a cure.” She hears a familiar voice off in the trees and she can’t help but smile.

“Really? You worked with Ilya for a cure? There’s a portal to the library? Wow, you’re pretty mysterious, Asra.” She can hear a female voice, and she smiles even more. That must be the infamous Pasha that Julian would talk about constantly. It will be nice to have a face to go with the multitude of stories her brother told. 

Asra laughs tightly. “I wouldn’t say mysterious…” They clear the trees and she waits for them to approach. He pauses as he clears the trees, eyes wide. He must feel her. A blush creeps it’s way up her neck and she looks down at her dress, patting away some wrinkles, she smooths her hair. How foolish to be worried about her state of appearance. He’s never cared about it before. It must be her nerves. 

His eyes meet hers, and she can feel the warm tingle of his energy along her body. He’s only shocked for a moment, before he smirks and glances down at the small redhead at his side. “You want to know mysterious? There she is.” She can feel her blush deepen.

He walks suavely towards her, his lavender eyes alight with mischief. 

“M-Marion…? Wait, no… What?” She can hear Pasha say, but she can’t take her eyes off the dream of a man walking her way. 

He approaches slowly, reaching out to take her hands in his. He looks down at her and he smiles, dimples deep and happy, white hair glowing in the sunlight. 

“Took you long enough, I thought I’d have to wait all day.” She says playfully. 

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” He says, he grabs her around her middle and spins her playfully, she giggles at his antics. He gracefully lowers her back down and claims her lips in a hungry but soft kiss. She swoons in his arms. 

“Uh-um… Not to break up such a lovely moment, but, uh,  _ what _ ?” Pasha says with a panicked and confused voice.

Asra is laughing before he can separate his lips from hers. He leans back, his smile mirthful, his eyes glinting with happiness. “She’s so much like her brother…” He mumbles and turns to look at Pasha. “Portia, meet Marion’s twin sister, Miranda.”

Pasha, or should she say Portia? She must have picked out a more pronounceable name like Julian did when he came to Vesuvia. Portia looks even more confused and she glances back and forth between the two magicians. 

Miranda laughs and takes Asra’s hand, she walks up to Portia. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Pasha. Your brother has told me so much about you.”

“Ilya?” Portia gasps. Miranda nods. “You know Ilya?”

“I apprenticed under him four or so years ago. During the height of the Red Plague.” 

“ _ Really _ ? He’s never mentioned you… Marion either…”

Asra looks a bit nervous and he looks around. “Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere less open? Not to mention, there are more pressing matters?” He eyes Portia and she blushes, nodding quickly. 

“Um, my cottage isn’t far from here. We can go there, the guards usually don’t patrol as much there.” She turns on her heel and the magician’s follow slowly, walking hand in hand. 

Portia’s cottage is small, and cozy. Miranda especially liked the large extravagant garden all around it. Unfortunately, there isn’t time for her to meander around the various plants trying to recognize and name them. That will just have to be a small regret to take with her after she returns to the Arcane Realms. 

After ushering them to sit at her small dining table, Portia set about in the kitchen putting the kettle on for tea. She grabs a few apples from a bowl on the counter and begins cutting them into slices. They patiently wait for her to finish and sit next to them before they start. Miranda takes a slice of apple with a shaky hand, she’s far too excited to eat again, and Asra gives her a side smile as he watches. She has half a mind to stick her tongue out at him, but decides against it. 

“So…” Portia leads in, just like her brother indeed. They both seem to be allergic to silence. “You’re Marion’s sister, huh? Not that I don’t believe it, I mean, you look just like her.”

Miranda puts the apple slice in her mouth and has to suppress a moan of pleasure. Asra eyes her with mirth. Seeing as how she’s a little busy, he decides to answer instead. Let her enjoy her apple, he thinks.

“She’s the older twin too.” He says casually. “Marion doesn’t talk about her because she doesn’t remember her.”

“Oooooooooh,” Portia nods, hair bouncing. So much like Ilya’s… “I remember her saying something about having amnesia, or maybe it was her friend Saffron who said it… Doesn’t matter. Anyway, why haven’t you reconnected? Have you been traveling or something?”

Miranda chokes a bit on her apple but swallows it down. She holds a delicate hand over her mouth as she speaks, just in case the apple decides it’s not down all the way. “Ah, well, yes? I guess you can say that…” She blushes just a tinge around her cheeks. Asra can’t help but put his chin in his hand and watch her. 

“Ah, okay. It’s not unheard of for siblings to be estranged. I hadn’t seen Ilya for  _ years _ .” She gets an annoyed look on her face, and Miranda can’t help but smile behind her hand. What must it have been like to have Julian as a sibling? It might have been pretty similar to having Marion as a sibling. In that respect, she could sympathize. 

“What’s the plan? I assume with Miranda being here, getting into the library has changed?” Portia asks. 

“Marion isn’t in danger anymore.” Asra answers. “If Miranda is here, then Marion is safe. Ilya on the other hand… You didn’t happen to see him on your way out?”

Miranda blanches, but shakes her head no. “I didn’t know he was with her… Maybe I should have looked, but I didn’t feel him. For a man who hates magic, he has enough of a well of it inside of him that he’s not easy to overlook.”

“Then it’s safe to assume they arrested him, if he wasn’t in the library.” Asra murmurs into his hand.

“Not in the library, or the dungeon below it.” Miranda nods.

“Ilya has  _ magic _ ?” Portia looks extremely pleased with herself for a moment. “Wait, so there’s a portal and a dungeon in the library?”

“Yes, there’s a passageway from the library. Leads down below the palace. It’s… not a pleasant place. It’s where the doctors worked during the plague.” 

“Once this is over, you’re going to have to show me. It’s… a bit of a hobby of mine to find all the secrets of the palace.”

Asra smirks, “Of course. But for the time being, I suppose we need to find out what happened to Ilya. We need to find out where he’s being held.”

“If Marion were here, it would be no problem, considering she was in charge of his capture…” Portia thinks out loud. She stands and checks on the kettle, she drops some leaves into the pot and brings it to the table. “But in her absence I guess I’m the next best option. Milady won’t be too suspicious of me, I don’t think.”

“Do you think you can get us an audience with her?” Asra inquires. 

Portia shrugs, “She might be intrigued about hearing Marion has a twin. That might work.” She pours them both a cup. 

“Asra, there has to be a way to prove his innocence. I know he didn’t kill the Count.” Miranda says.

“Do you  _ know _ know or just know?” Portia asks.

“I just know Julian… he’s not the type to kill.” Miranda says softly. 

“Saffron will know if Marion has found anything.” Asra offers. “Portia, get us an audience with the Countess, please. Find out if Ilya was arrested and where they’re holding him. We’ll go back to the shop and talk to Saffron, find out what Marion was able to find. With any luck, we can present evidence of his innocence.”

“Right. And while you’re with Milady, I’ll figure out a plan B.” Portia punches one hand into the other.

“Plan B?”

“Incase my idiot brother really is guilty, or if we have no proof of his innocence… I’m not letting him die. I’ve got a few connections. I’ll smuggle him out.”

Miranda nods. “I second the plan B contingency. I don’t want to see Julian get hurt. I owe him too much for that to happen.”

“What could you possibly owe Ilya?” Asra looks shocked. 

“A lot. Way more than I realized.” She says softly. 

“Right. I’ll be off then.” Portia stands, taking a quick swig of her tea. “You two are welcome to stay as long as you need. Finish your tea. Just lock up when you leave.” 

“Thanks Portia.” Asra smiles as she leaves. “Now,” He turns to Miranda, grabbing her hand, he brings it to his lips. “Care to explain this owing business?”

“Oh? Does it bother you?” She grins at him, his eyes darken just a touch.

“I’m not going to say it doesn’t.”

“Were you ever able to talk to him?”

He sighs and releases her hand. “No. I only got back this morning. We had just enough time together to argue before the compulsion took over Marion…”

“Argue? What could you argue with Julian over? He’s nothing but a giant puppy.” Miranda frowns.

Asra mimics her frown. “I think I need you to explain how you know Ilya.”

“It’s just as I told Portia. I apprenticed under him during the Red Plague.” She watches him carefully. Asra doesn’t show his emotions as easily as others, so paying attention to him when he struggles is important. 

“So it was him then.” He looks out the window, his expression dark. “He’s the one who let you get exposed and die.”

Her eyebrows pinch together. She fights back the urge to smack him upside his head. “Asra Alnazar, shame on you. You can’t blame any one person for sickness and death.”

He pouts, “I can when it’s a doctor that should have known better.” He mumbles. 

She grabs his face and makes him look at her. “Julian isn’t responsible. If anything he helped me get closure.”

His eyes bounce between hers. “Closure?”

She nods slowly and swallows the lump in her throat. “I… I knew Marion was sick. I could just  _ feel _ it. I started looking around the clinics to try and find her, I knew it was only a matter of time.” She looks away from him, releasing him from her grip. “There were so many people suffering, Asra. It was hard to walk away without at least trying to ease their pain. He caught me casting sleeping spells, handing out relaxation potions as I searched. It was his idea for me to apprentice under him. I told him my main goal was to find my sister, and he agreed to help, as long as I helped ease the pain of the passing. He found Marion, Asra. Risked life and limb to bring her to me, to let me say goodbye.” She pauses, her voice started to crack from emotion. 

“Oh Miranda,” Asra sighs, pulling her to him. She doesn’t fight him off, instead she nestles her head into this neck. 

“She was so small, so thin. She had been sick for a long time. Julian said she was the longest survivor of the plague other than the Count. They, the doctors and Valdemar… they had been using her as a test subject. They kept her locked in that forsaken dungeon, locked in a cage. Julian he, he said he hadn’t recognized her. Valdemar insisted on keeping some kind of blindfold on her, kept her hair short and with her so sickly… there was no way he would be able to recognize her.” She takes a long steadying breath. “It wasn’t until she passed away on the vivisection table, and one of the doctors took her blindfold off that he knew it was her. He said he recognized our eyes.”

Asra had no idea how it happened. It didn’t seem that important compared to the fact that they were both  _ gone _ . He knew it was the plague, but this… this was much worse. And it almost happened to her again. 

“I took her to the Lazaret.” Miranda continues. “Julian said if he hadn’t gotten her out, Valdemar would have just fed her to the beetles. It was apparently how they disposed of most of their test subjects. He said he couldn’t let that happen to her.” She gives a hollow laugh that makes Asra’s heart ache. “Maybe all the stories I told him about her, all the times I told him I’d thought they would be good friends, even played around with matching them up.” Her voice cracks. “Maybe he took those to heart, I don’t know.” 

“You took her to the Lazaret, and then you contracted it too.” 

She nods. “I wasn’t about to leave her on the beach. I-I couldn’t. Once you step foot on the island, that’s it. No going back. I waited with her until it was her turn in the crematorium. But I… I didn’t make it long enough to see her burn. Once I contracted it, I didn’t last long.” 

“At least you stopped it from happening a second time.”

She nods. “For now. I don’t know what will happen to her when she comes back. I scared off Valdemar for the time being, but they’re not the type to give up easily.” She clears her throat and wipes her eyes. “So, I owe Julian a lot. I don’t want to see him hang.”

“You really told him you thought he would be a good match for Marion?” Asra gives her a playful smile.

She laughs, it’s half broken and haunting but she laughs. “Yes! Think about it. You seem to know Julian pretty well yourself, would they not be perfect?”

Asra regards her for a moment before a smile tugs at his lips. “All I see in that future is trouble.”

“Exactly!” Her eyes shine with fresh tears, but they are mirthful and not sorrowful. 

“Be careful what you wish for.” He murmurs. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nothing, love. Let’s go try to save your  _ master _ .”

Miranda crinkles her nose in distaste. “You know there’s only one man in my life I would consider calling that.” She winks at him. He can feel his blush light his face, but it feels good and he smiles.

“Good.”

They arrive at the shop sometime in the mid afternoon. Asra doesn’t even have enough time to work the locking runes before the door flies open and he’s face to face with two wild chocolate eyes. 

“Asra! You’re back, were you able to--” Saffron’s words die in their throat as they take in Miranda. “What…? How are you here? Where’s Marion?”

“Um, may I come in?” Miranda smiles wearily at the large ex-sailor. They looked a lot bigger in person than in the small pool in Asra’s gate. 

Saffron moves aside and they enter the shop. 

“How’s Muriel? Is he awake yet?” Asra asks as he drops his satchel at the shop counter. 

“He’s been awake for a while now. He’s been eating well. He’s worried sick about Marion. Me too. Spill.” They cross their arms over their chest. 

“Yes. Spill.” Muriel’s voice raises gruffly from the reading room. The three of them go into the room and sit on a few cushions on the floor. Muriel is looking better, his color has returned and Asra feels a weight lift from his shoulders. 

Muriel eyes Miranda cautiously. “Miranda.” He greets gruffly.

“Hello again Muriel.” She smiles at him.

“Let me see about healing some of those cuts first.” Asra says as he scoots himself over to Muriel’s side. 

“Fine.” Saffron scowls. “You then,” he motions to Miranda. “He heals, you talk. Go.”

Asra frowns and looks as if to tell Saffron off, but Miranda stops him with a wave of her hand. “They’re worried Asra, and can you blame them? Heal, I’ll talk.” Asra nods and hovers his hands over Muriel.

“Marion is safe for the time being.” She offers. Saffron doesn’t look convinced. 

“ _ For the time being _ . I don’t like the sound of that. Where is she?”

“She’s in the Arcane Realms, where I was. I kind of… took over her body? I’m not sure how else to explain it.” 

Saffron stares at her in confusion. “You mean to tell me that you took her body from her, sent her into a magical realm alone, after the trauma of having been forcefully possessed by an unknown magician and you’re calling that  _ safe for the time being _ ?” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Miranda blanches. 

“How else am I supposed to put it? These Arcane Realms you sent her to, are they safe for people with no magical talent? Will she be able to handle it there?”

“I don’t know.” She looks down at her lap. “I assume she’s asleep, much as I was. It’s not easy being disembodied against your will. But I  _ had  _ to do it. She couldn’t save herself, and Valdemar has no control over me.”

“Valdemar? The  _ Quaestor _ ? They’re the one who took her?” Saffron tenses up.

“Yes, seems Valdemar was wanting their test subject back.” Asra mumbles. Muriel gives Asra a hard look. Asra meets it, and nods. Muriel looks distraught. “I wish we had more time to explain everything, but right now, we need to know what you know.”

“And what would that be?”

“Anything Marion found out that could be used to help prove Julian’s innocence.” Miranda offers. “We believe he’s been arrested while accompanying Marion.”

Saffron pinches the bridge of their nose. “Oh, that foolish doctor…” They sigh. “Yeah, they had one lead. Muriel.”

Asra looks up from poking at one of the incisions he’s just healed. “Muriel?”

He grunts, but doesn’t offer anything more.

“He’s a witness from the night of Lucio’s ‘murder’. Can we even call it that now? Wouldn’t having a new body and all that be considered decidedly  _ not _ dead?” 

Asra looks at Saffron for a long minute. They’re not wrong. Maybe if he can find a way to prove Lucio isn’t  _ dead _ then…

“Wait, Lucio is alive?” Miranda looks between all of them with bewildered eyes. 

“In a manner of speaking.” Asra retorts.

“That’s good news then right? If he’s alive, we can use him as proof Julian didn’t kill him.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Asra sighs. “But it’s not out the window. Proving someone is alive when you don’t know where they are is tricky business, but it could work.”

“Okay, but in the meantime, is there a way to check in on Marion?” Saffron asks.

“There is, but it will take a bit of preparation. I would have to go, Muriel isn’t strong enough in his current state and Miranda can’t go, leaving her body empty would be… not good.” He ends lamely. 

“We can get the spell ingredients ready while we wait to see if we get an audience with Nadia. We can try it after.” They all nod at her. 

“That’s acceptable.” The ex-sailor sighs. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“Been a rough couple of days?” Asra smiles.

“To put it bluntly.” Saffron smirks.

There’s a light tapping on the shop door and everyone freezes. Saffron rubs their face wearily. “I got it.” They come back into the room with a confused look on their face. “So… there’s a girl outside. Says her name is Tabitha. Claims she has some information about who tried to put a bounty on Marion…”

Miranda smiles and stands immediately. “Tabby! I haven’t seen her in ages!” She’s held back by Asra grabbing her wrist. “What?”

“Everyone thinks you’re dead. If you go out there you’ll likely freak her out.” He turns to Saffron. “What’s this about a bounty?”

Saffron shrugs. “First I’ve heard about it.”

Miranda laughs, and it rings mirthful. “This  _ is _ Marion we’re talking about.”

Asra smirks, “Yes, but she’s been a little more tame since…”

“Should I hide in the closet then?” Miranda smirks back.

Asra laughs, “No, I’ll go talk to her. Just stay in here.” 

He opens the door to the shop to see the small pink headed girl still standing on the stoop. “Asra!” She looks up shocked. “I haven’t seen you in years!”

“Hello, Tabitha. Please come in.” He holds the door for her. She looks around the shop, looking a little uncomfortable. 

“Shop hasn’t changed much…” she mumbles to herself. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you. If Marion isn’t here, can you get a message to her?”

“Certainly.”

“The contract was dropped last night. She’s not wanted anymore. Mistress Leopold wasn’t happy about losing the contract, and I overheard her yelling about it. Turns out it was the Consul and the Quaestor who put out the bounty.”

“ _ What _ ?” Saffron says from behind the curtain, they thrust it open and stare at the girl. “Marion was  _ working for the Countess,  _ why would they put a bounty on her?”

Tabitha grins at Saffron. “You haven’t dealt with much court related drama have you? There’s always some kind of double crossing and backstabbing when it comes to nobles. They hire us  _ unsavory _ folk to do their dirty business.” She shrugs. “It’s just the way of things.”

“They must have cancelled the contract when they thought they had her.” Asra thinks out loud. 

“Is Marion in trouble?” Tabitha asks, glancing between the two men. “There’s a rumor that Doctor Devorak, who she was with the other day, has been arrested. She said she was working with the Countess, but she didn’t seem like she was about to turn him in…” 

“I’ve never seen a rumor spread faster than it does in Vesuvia.” Saffron grumbles. 

“So it’s true? Devorak’s been arrested?” Tabitha looks shocked.

“Most likely.” Asra confirms. 

“Shit. I need to find Trabor.” Tabitha bites at her thumbnail, worry pinching her face up. She glances at the two again. “Okay, please get that to Marion. I have a few things I need to attend to…”

Asra easily stands in the way of the door. “I know that look Tabitha.”

She squares up to him, her golden eyes sparking with determination. “This doesn’t concern you, Asra. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

He regards her for a moment then sighs. “If you’re looking to get Devorak out of trouble… seek out the handmaiden Portia.” He says in a soft voice, trying to convey his seriousness with his eyes. She gives him a skeptical look, but it’s the best he can do. He steps aside and she exits the shop quickly. 

“I’m starting to regret leaving Marion alone after that night at the Raven.” Saffron leans on the doorway to the reading room. They look at Asra with a meaningful look.

“I’m starting to regret it too.”

Portia leads the two magicians out onto the veranda. The sun is hanging low in the sky, setting the palace grounds aflame in rich oranges, pinks and reds. The Countess sits comfortably on an elegant cushioned seat, sipping casually on a crystal glass of what Asra can only assume is her favorite cordial. 

It’s been three years since he’s seen her. He’s glad she’s looking well. 

She looks up at them as they approach and sets her glass down. “Ah, the infamous magician Asra. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. And Miranda, was it? My, you do look just like Marion. I must admit, I was skeptical when Portia said you were twins… but here you are. No denying it now.” She gestures for them to sit.

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Countess.” Asra says as he sits. 

Nadia offers them a glass of cordial, they take it but they don’t drink it right away. She leans back and watches them for a moment. “I’m assuming this is about Marion’s disappearance? My guard tells me she entered the palace early this morning with Doctor Devorak. Yet, he is secure in the dungeons below the Coliseum, and Marion is nowhere to be found.”

“It’s a hard story to tell, Countess.” Miranda says quietly. “An even harder one to believe.”

“You have my undivided attention.” Nadia quirks a regal eyebrow. 

Miranda explains Marion’s predicament, with Asra adding in details when he can. Nadia takes the news of one of her courtiers actions leading to Marion’s temporary absence with grace. But Asra can see the fire burning just inside her maroon eyes. 

“I had a feeling something was awry. I had no idea it was this dire. If there is anything you require, tell me. I will provide it.” The Countess rubs her temples, a headache blooming behind her eyes. 

“Let Julian Devorak go?” Miranda asks, voice high and hopeful.

Nadia’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Miranda…” Asra sighs.

She shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“I cannot.” Nadia looks slightly annoyed, but she takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “However, something Marion said to me a few days ago has been bothering me. So, I’ve reconsidered his immediate execution. He will have a trial instead.”

Miranda frowns. “Vesuvian trials aren’t exactly the fairest trials…”

“Yes,” Nadia looks out over the palace grounds for a moment. “I had been looking over Vesuvian laws recently. I’ll be making reforms. I think my first will be how trials work. I have a draft written based on a Prakran custom, it calls for trial by jury. Are you familiar?”

“I am.” Asra leans forward in the chair, he holds his cup of cordial with both hands and idly spins the crystal between his fingers. “So, you’ll allow Doctor Devorak representation?”

Nadia nods, pleased that he understands. “I had meant for it to be Marion but…”

Miranda clears her throat. “Will you allow us? Marion has accrued some evidence that would put Julian’s guilt into question.”

“Given the circumstances, I believe that would be in everyone’s best interests. I’ll make the announcement in the morning. The trial will start at noon tomorrow, you’ll have until then to prepare. That’s all the time I can give you.”

“More than generous, Countess.” Asra states.

“I’ll tell the guards to allow you access to the doctor. I’m sure you’d like to question him.” As she says this, the door leading onto the veranda opens and Portia scurries out, blue eyes wide. Following her are a couple of guards and several men in black leather. Nadia’s eyes widen and she stands. “Portia, what?”

“I’m sorry milady, but--” Portia tries but she’s cut off by the next person to step onto the veranda.

“I believe that’s enough plotting to subvert Vesuvian law for now.” Consul Valerius walks over to Nadia, swirling a cup of red wine. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to catch you in the act.”

Nadia narrows her eyes at the Consul while Asra and Miranda stand slowly. They’re being surrounded by the men in black, Asra’s lavender eyes bounce around to each one. He frowns.

“In the act of what, Consul?” Nadia sneers.

“Countess Nadia Satrinava, Magician Asra Alnazar… You along with Doctor Julian Devorak have been charged with High Treason against Count Lucio of Vesuvia. Your attempt at a coup three years ago failed, and now you attempt it again.” Valerius sips from his glass in a haughty manner, eyes alight with mirth. “Arrest them.”

Two of the men in black reach forward and grab Nadia’s arms. She stands tall and glares daggers at Valerius. She does not resist, but she looks at the men in disgust.

“Who’s throwing the real coup here, Consul? You’ve hired mercenaries to arrest me.” Her voice is cold.

With Nadia as a distraction Asra inches Miranda closer to the railing of the veranda. He peeks over the edge, it’s a ten foot drop. He peeks at Miranda, she has decent magical reflexes, he’s positive she’ll cushion her fall. In a swift graceful movement he sweeps Miranda off her feet. “Run.” He murmurs into her ear as there’s shouts of alarm. He drops her over the edge.

Quickly she casts a floating spell and drifts easily to her feet on the ground below. Her eyes are wide and alarmed as she looks back up at him, he nods to her and just makes out her dashing across the grass before he’s tackled to the marble below. 

“That was fool hardy, magician.” The Consul sneers. Asra can barely hear him over the bodies holding him on the ground. 

Asra is yanked violently to his feet. He sneers at Valerius, blood trickling down his chin from his cut lip. “Hard to plan another coup against the Count when there isn’t one.” He struggles against the men, he concentrates on gathering his magic, he’s about to loose a shock spell when his hands are violently shackled together. Immediately his magic sputters out to nothing. He stares at the square shackles in surprise. His stomach drops to his tailbone. 

“Ah, Asra, that’s where you’re wrong.” A high nasally voice says from the veranda door. Asra stills, Nadia lets out a surprised gasp. 

A figure stands leaning against the door frame, swirling their own glass of red wine. He knows who it is immediately, despite the new goat like appearance. “Lucio.” 

“Lucio?” Nadia gasps again.

He stands up tall, his white suit form fitting, as was Lucio’s style from three years past. However, the goat head and feet are new. He looks familiar to Asra, and he’s sure that if he had access to his Tarot cards, he could hold up the Devil and the resemblance would be uncanny. 

“Did you miss me, Noddy?” He walks up to her, his hooved feet clopping loudly on the marble. He sips his wine, staining his white goat beard red.

“No.” Nadia answers disgusted.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Asra, what about you?” Lucio whines. His red goat eyes narrow on him, and Asra shivers at how alien they look. 

“No.” Asra answers.

“Well, that’s a shame.” His goat mouth puckers in a pout. “I have to say, I’m excited to be back. Living as a ghost is decidedly  _ not _ fun. However, I hear there’s a Masquerade coming up. Is that right Noddy?” He reaches out and touches her under her chin with a long black claw. His goat smile is disturbing, along with the wine stains on his fur. “Plenty of time for fun then.” He turns to Asra next. “But first! The hanging! I have to say, starting a Masquerade with an execution is a nice touch. Noddy has outdone herself, Asra.”

They both stay silent and glare at him. He smiles and shakes off the looks. 

“You both look like you need a rest. Tomorrow is promising to be an exciting day.” He snaps his claws and the men in black tighten their grips on their arms and escort them off the veranda. “See you at the hanging then.” Lucio laughs.

The cell door is wrenched open with an ear splitting screech and Julian looks up from his muttering in surprise. He hadn't even heard them approach. A person is shoved forcefully into the cell and they land at his feet with a thud. The door slams shut, the echo resonating down the stone hallway. 

"Asra?" Julian says in disbelief. He kneels down next to who he is absolutely certain is Asra, his hands hovering over his form, fingers twitching with indecision. "A-Asra, what happened to you, er, are you alright?"

Asra moans and rolls onto his back, his lip is split open and his left eye is puffy, like he's been struck. "Do I look alright to you?" His voice is pained, but his inflection is typical sarcastic Asra.

"Erm, right, stupid question." Julian mumbles to himself blushing. "Here, let me help you up." He gets Asra to a sitting position and pulls him by his armpits until he's close enough to the wall to lean on it. Asra groans and puts his head in his hands, which brings his shackles to Julian's attention. They're metal for sure, but they have a strange writing carved into them. They're a strange square shape, nothing like the round pin clasp of the shackles that chain him to the wall. "What kind of shackles are these?" He wonders aloud.

"Magic suppressing ones." Asra answers through gritted teeth.

"I-I didn't know that was a thing." Julian says in surprise.

"Oh, they're a thing. I just didn't know they had them in Vesuvia. Either that, or Lucio knew he'd need them and brought them along." Asra hisses, still not looking up from his slouched position. 

"What? Lucio? You're not making sense Asra, let me see your eyes, you might have a concussion." Julian reaches forward to grab at Asra's hands.

The magician twists from his fingers easily and he glares up at the doctor. Despite the glare, Julian can see his pupils react normally. Not concussed then. "I'm fine, Ilya. Just give me a minute."

Julian nods and settles himself on the floor of the cell, leaning against the wall next to Asra. He tries to be patient and wait, but his mind is reeling with questions and worst case scenarios and he can't contain his anxiety anymore.

"So… I take it my sister, Portia, was able to find you?" He asks wearily.

Asra glowers at him, but he sighs and nods his head. "Yes, she found me--"

"A-and Marion? Were you able to--"

Asra holds his hands up to silence him. "No. She didn't need saving, her sister did that for us."

"Sister? You mean Miranda? How did she break the spell Valdemar had on her? It was a  _ strong _ spell Asra… you didn't see how helpless she was, the things that Valdemar made her do…"

Asra's eyes soften as he watches Julian's face tighten up in fear, regret, and panic. "Yes, I mean Miranda. It's okay Ilya, Marion is safe from Valdemar for the moment."

Tension he didn't realize he had ebbed from his shoulders, back and legs and Julian almost melts into a puddle on the cell floor. "Thank goodness…" he sighs. "Where is she? Why are you here? What happened?" 

"Lucio happened." Asra glares down at his shackles. "We were trying to talk Nadia into not hanging you, she was receptive to having a trial and letting us prove your innocence but… Lucio showed up with hired Milovan mercenaries. He convinced Consul Valerius that Nadia had tried to throw a coup three years ago that led to Lucio's disembodiment. Claimed you and I were a part of it. He arrested Nadia and myself, but Miranda was able to escape."

"Ilya," Asra looks up at the doctor, something like fear dancing in his eyes. "Lucio is… different. He's powerful now, and only getting stronger somehow. They plan on hanging you tomorrow, for treason instead of murder."

Julian sighs and runs his gloved fingers through his auburn curls. "Lucio is back huh? Things are starting to fall back into the way things were three years ago." 

"Ilya, did you hear what I said? They're going to  _ hang you _ \--"

"Tomorrow. Yes, I heard." He bends one long leg to rest his elbow on his knee. "Just means that my plan will be happening sooner than I was hoping for…" he gives Asra a guilty look in response to Asra's hard stare. "You were right, Asra. In the end I did end up hurting her."

Asra is thrown off by the sudden change in topic but his eyes narrow to slits as he regards the redhead next to him. "What did you do, Ilya?"

Julian clicks his tongue in disgust. "What you  _ should  _ be asking is what  _ didn't  _ I do to her?" He stares at the far wall of the cell, eye hard and angry. "I hurt her, I allowed others to hurt her. I stood by and watched as she was experimented on, I  _ took part in it. _ And I was  _ excited that I had the chance to. _ " He clenches his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking with the strain. "Now, the only thing that I can do to make this right is to get my cure before the plague emerges again. Even then, it won't make it right, but it's all I can do."

"What…" Asra watches Julian, eyebrows pinched together. "What are you saying?"

"The plague is coming back, Asra. The catalysts are here, I saw them in the dungeon. Red beetles. It's why Valdemar wanted Marion back so badly, they wanted to reinfect her so they could have their test subject back."

Asra swallows hard. "And you think you have the cure?"

Julian gives a hollow laugh. "I  _ know _ I have the cure. I've used it before, and it worked." Slowly he grabs his eyepatch and flips it up to expose his infected eye. Asra gasps, and he gives him a dark smirk. "Now, I just need access to it."

"How will you get access to it? You're set to hang tomorrow, you're locked in a cell!" 

"The hangman's noose." Julian says quietly.

"Ilya--"

Julian takes the glove off his right hand and touches Asra on the cheek. Asra stills as he feels the magic coursing around him. His words die in his throat as he sees the sigil glow on Julian's neck, feels his wounds heal. 

Julian lets out a dark laugh. "I thought it was you who gave me this curse. I thought it a fitting parting gift from one jilted lover to another… but Marion said she didn't think that was the case. She said you didn't have that kind of power. Turns out she was right. I hated you for three years for something you didn't do." He gives a sheepish smile. "I found out where it came from, or an idea anyway, while I was in my office in the dungeon. And I guess, tomorrow, we'll find out if I'm right."

Asra touches his lip where it's no longer cut. "This sigil, can it cure your wounds as well?" 

"Easier than curing others." 

"So, you plan to survive your hanging with this?"

Julian absentmindedly scratches at where the sigil was on his neck, then slowly puts his glove back on. "I'm hoping to meet the one who gave it to me first, but yes, ultimately I plan to survive using it. It wouldn't be the first time it's gotten me out of a deadly situation." 

"You plan to meet the Hanged Man." Asra says.

Julian startles at Asra's surety. "Is that his name? All I have to go on is my own feverish scrawlings and doodles, but it seems the night I was cured I had some kind of contact with a raven headed being, and I know they're the key."

"That's a dangerous gamble, Ilya. What if you don't heal from it?"

"Then there's one less monster in this world." The look on Asra's face screams disappointment, but Julian pays it no mind. "Will you do me a favor, Asra? Will you make sure Marion gets through all of this in one piece?"

"That's not something I can do, Ilya." The magician says softly.

"Why not?" Julian almost growls in frustration. Surely Asra would do everything to keep her safe, why imply he wouldn't?

"Right now, she's in the Arcane Realms, alone, with no abilities in magic and limited understanding of what she's dealing with. I'm here, stuck in a cell with magic suppressing shackles. Her sister is weak from saving her from Valdemar, and with Lucio back in the picture, leaving her body behind to enter the realms is a terrible idea."

The panic on Julian's face is enough to make what Asra has to say next not seem so far fetched. It might just work…

"Ilya, you're the only one who can reach her in the realms now."

"I--what? Me? I can't do magic Asra--"

"No, but you plan to meet an Arcana in his realm while you linger in-between life and death. Honestly that's not much different from any magician entering the realms. It's an out of body experience. You care for her, right? She reciprocates? That's a strong enough link to get to her, to find her."

"Asra, I'm not even sure my plan is going to work--"

Asra scoffs at him, annoyed at his insecurities. "What have you got to lose, Ilya?"

Julian blanches. "I… nothing.” He says softly. “Everything."

Saffron leads Muriel and herself through the streets of South End heading toward what they called the Rowdy Raven. In the time while she was alive she hadn't ever needed to visit South End but maybe a handful of times, so this part of town is mostly unknown to her. Saffron seems very familiar, and it's doubtless that Marion is a frequenter of the poorer side of Vesuvia. 

All she knows is she needs to find Tabitha. It was all she could think about while fleeing the palace grounds. Find Tabitha, get in contact with this Trabor she mentioned in the shop. If there was going to be some kind of rescue effort for Julian, surely she could talk them into rescuing Asra as well. It was a shot in the dark, but if they were friends of Julian and Marion, surely they would at least consider the idea. 

The only way she knew of to find Tabitha was through her grandfather Linus. She had a vague recollection of where he lives, or lived--there was no telling if he still held his residence there--but it seemed all she needed to do was mention his name to Saffron and with a roll of their eyes and a grumble of "He's easy enough to find," all three of them were headed to the pub. 

The name Rowdy Raven sounded familiar to her, and an impression of Julian came upon her--tired, hung over and looking dead on his feet--telling her a story involving the pub; recalling for her his escapades from the night before while they worked. All she could do was hope they'd find what they were looking for.

Saffron comes to a stop before a worn wooden door at a three step stoop. Above it hung a sign depicting a raven on its back, tankard in hand reclining on the hollow nook of a quarter moon. The sign seemed appropriate somehow, though how that could be with what little she knew of the place was beyond her. They turn back to look at the two and they reach for the door. 

"I'll… wait out here." Muriel mumbles, looking around for a spot to try and disappear into.

"Are you sure?" Saffron lets go of the handle before they've pulled on it. Muriel nods. "Okay, honey. We'll be back as quickly as we can. Don't go running off on me." They wink and pull the door open, striding in easily.

Miranda looks over at Muriel, who's watching Saffron with a tinge of pink across his cheeks. "Honey?" She asks him softly. 

He looks harried for a moment, reddening profusely. "They… they call everyone honey." His voice cracks on the word honey. 

She smiles as she watches him struggle under her gaze before she gently pats him on a large muscular arm. "Maybe, but it's okay to like it." She turns before he can respond and enters the pub. 

The inside of the pub is unassuming, bordering on dull, with no matching furniture, no wall drapings or even so much as an attempt to decorate. It's only main attractions are the bar at the door and the large chandelier responsible for the warm orange glow that permeates the main room. It's a simple pub, it's simplicity lending to its charm. 

She doesn't get much of a chance to observe more than that before an unsettling silence settles over its parishioners. She can feel a flush rise to her cheeks as everyone in the room stares at her. She searches the room for Saffron, inching her way towards them at the bar, nervously glancing at the many wide, confused eyes staring at her. 

"--head on back there if ya like. Probably expectin' ya anyway." She hears the large barkeep rumble to Saffron, and they nod turning to look at her. The barkeep stills when he catches a glimpse of her. She fidgets with the hem of her peasant shirt, lowering her eyes and stepping closer to Saffron. He reaches out and lays a hand on Saffron's shoulder, catching their attention. "Gonna have to explain this to me sometime." He nods towards her, she sinks into herself some trying to hide. "Know ya don't have time now."

Saffron smirks and nods, putting a protective arm around Miranda doing their best to comfort her while they lead to the back. They bring her to a door, one that nearly blends into the wall it sets in and they rap on the door five times making a tune. The door opens to a dark room and they are ushered inside. 

"Saffron!" An old man croaks out, hobbling his way towards them from a table in the center of the room. His peg leg clacks raucously in his haste. "Marion!" He gives her a single tooth smile. Said smile dies on his lips however and he stops his approach with jolt. "Miranda?" 

She gives him a shy smile and nods slightly. 

"Seems introductions aren't necessary." Saffron booms walking past Linus and clapping him harshly on his shoulder. "Barth said I would find a man named Trabor here. Anyone care to claim the name?"

Of the ten or so people in the room, no one seems to be able to respond. They're all staring at her. She glances around the room searching for a familiar face. She finds it in Tabitha, standing off to the side hands raised in mid conversation that had been abruptly cut off. "Hi." Is all she can think to say. 

With a startling squeal, Tabitha rushes her, pushing past her stunned grandfather and enveloping Miranda in a breathtaking hug. "Miranda! Oh, you're  _ alive _ . This is wonderful! Where have you been? It's been so long! Have you seen Marion yet? Did she remember you? I'm sure she did, how could she  _ not _ \--"

"Tabby." A deep voice says from the table and Tabitha pauses her onslaught of questions. "Let the girl breathe, there's plenty of time later to catch up." The man speaking has aged well, handsome with his salt and pepper hair and bushy gray brows. And though his blue eyes look cloudy, they stare at her with a sharp focus. "I'm Trabor." He turns his head to look Saffron over. "I take it you're here to assist in the rescue efforts?"

The two nod and approach the table. It's lit by a single candle in the middle illuminating a rough sketch of a map of Vesuvia. 

"More the merrier." A short woman next to him welcomes them. She gives them a wide gap toothed grin. “Name’s Mazelinka.”

Miranda beams at the shorter woman. “Like,  _ Dread Pirate  _ Mazelinka?”

The older woman’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “I see my name has preceded me. Wish I could say the same for you, though I’ve heard quite a bit about your rowdy sister. Got to meet her once, after my slippery grandchild snuck her into my home overnight.”

Saffron’s back goes ramrod straight. “ _ You’re the grandma _ ? Oh, I knew they weren’t telling the whole story…”

“Leave it to Devorak to fudge the details of a story.” Trabor nods sagely. 

Miranda was beyond thrilled. With Julian’s ex-pirate grandma and Trabor, they just might be able to pull this off. “What’s the plan then, Captain?”

Dawn came agonizingly slow, and she felt a slight twinge of pity for her deceased lover’s old charge. She was tired from planning, rounding up her contacts, meeting new ones. She was getting too old for things like this, but she had to admit she missed the excitement in her blood. She was an early riser by nature, so she was no stranger to seeing the beautiful displays of dawn. She was, however, not used to being up all night prior to those dawns, and that’s where her mind wandered to her adventurous slippery boy. 

How many times did she catch him over the years sitting alone in the quiet before dawn, sipping on black coffee and watching the sunrise with disinterest? She felt a deep sadness in knowing that he was plagued with sleepless nights, lonely mornings. In the time after the Count’s death that disinterest had turned to malice. In the short time she was able to keep him safe during his escape and relocation, she noticed that he had changed. Vesuvia had done something to him, something he couldn’t escape. When she lost him to Fate’s current, washing him away in a direction she couldn’t follow three years ago, she had feared the worst for him. 

Being reunited mere days prior, she noticed again that he had changed. Though it was only one sunrise she was able to witness, there was no denying the light of curiosity in his grey orbs. Dare she even say it looked like hope. If she had any gumption at the time she would have asked him, demanded of him, an explanation to his change. But she didn’t and she hadn’t, and now if things went poorly today, she’ll never know what gave him a sudden spark of life again. 

She sighs to herself and throws in a large handful of sand into the large bubbling cauldron. She wasn’t as good at dealing with the children as Lilinka was. Sure, she could make sure they were fed, keep them entertained with daring stories, even teach them to defend themselves… But Lilinka did the nurturing, the loving. That was probably why, after all the children that Lilinka warded over, the Devorak siblings were the ones who took her to, and her to them, the most. They were wild children who didn’t need to be coddled, would take a strange gesture like threatening them with a wooden spoon as a sign of endearment rather than abuse. They would, in fact, prefer it. And Mazelinka, well, she was a harbinger of tough love and the siblings thrived under it. 

So, she was going to do what she does best. Action. She was pulling all of her resources and favors within the city, and she was  _ going _ to get him out of this mess and away as quickly as she could. Then, once the excitement died down, she’d beat the answer out of him with said wooden spoon. She’s learning life is too short to sit around and wait for an answer, especially with that boy. He’s just as bad with his emotions, he’d rather deflect with an intriguing distraction or brush off any worry directed at him. She snorts at herself, stirring the concoction in the pot. Wonder where he learned that from? 

She did have an idea that may have sparked the change. She would be foolish to not have seen the signs of it. However, she wasn’t naive enough to think it was only a passing fancy, a distraction of worldly delights… despite how gratifying a physical relationship can be, these types of things never worked for him before. All distractions, nothing that lasted long, nothing that brought light to his eyes. This girl though, this girl… Something happened after he met her. 

But where was Marion now? Most likely the girl was also in some kind of trouble, and only Ilya knew the what’s and the how’s of it. That might cause an issue getting him to cooperate with the plan. He may not be receptive to fleeing Vesuvia if his new lady friend was in danger. That wasn’t something she had planned for. She may need to bring along a length of rope… 

In a steamy glowing puff, her soup turned a rich golden color and she quickly grabbed a towel to pull the cauldron off the fire. Cooking always did help her calm her nerves, and if there ever was a time she was grateful for her pep-up soup today would be it. Staying up all night was for the dogs, or Ilya, she supposed. 

She grabs a random empty pot and with an evil glint in her eye strolls out around the mass of bodies sprawled in all directions on the floor of the pub's stockroom. She assaults the pot with her wooden spoon, causing bodies to spring to life, people to curse and moan and some to curl tighter into whatever they’ve used as blankets. 

“Wake up freeloaders! Time for breakfast. Get your shit together, we have a doctor to save today!”

There are a few halfhearted protests among the group.

“Let him save himself, I’m tired.”

“Five more minutes, the hanging isn’t until noon.”

“Damnit, Maz, he’s your problem, you save him.”

All of which she just chortles at and walks away. 

The tumbrel slowly squeaks its way down the cobblestone path. Mazelinka and her small contingent of volunteers sit hidden in the shadows of the alleyways and canals, biding their time as the tumbrel passes. It’s being escorted by five of the Milovan Mercenaries that Miranda had warned them about the night before. It left a sour feeling in her stomach, knowing that the palace had been taken so easily from the inside. It was hard to believe at first, but seeing the dark leather clad men escorting Ilya through the streets, there was no longer any doubt. 

She’s dealt with Milovan traders on the sea before, a spritely bunch who most often than not were high on their supply of hash and easily taken over by her crew. These mercenaries though, didn’t look so easy to take down. Seems Milova has been toughening up it’s people, or it’s people got tired of being taken advantage of. 

She frowns, she’s been out of the loop too long. She hopes her lack of knowledge doesn’t get anyone killed. 

She flashes the signal to her men down the street and two of them stroll casually to stand in the way of the tumbrel’s progress. 

One of the Milovans raises his hand and the party halts. “We’re working on official palace business. Step aside. We want no quarrels.”

"Bully for you innit?" One of Maz's men sneers, she thinks it might be Carl, though she can't remember for sure. "We think a quarrel might be in order, considering the goods ya carry." He brandishes a long curved knife and the other man, Sten maybe? gives a dark snicker. 

Two of the Milovans pull their short swords and step forward. "If it's a fight you want, cur, you got it." 

At Mazelinka’s next signal five more men step out of the shadows, brandishing their own weapons. She can see the tension build up in the shoulders of the escorts. They were outnumbered and that seemed to cause them alarm. She grins as she walks out from the shadows herself and claps one of the unsuspecting men over the head with her wooden spoon, the man crumples to the ground in a heap. She clicks her tongue at the state of her spoon. It’s splintered and broken in half. This was her favorite spoon. 

The rest of the men break out of rank and engage the rest, she can hear the scuffles but pays them no mind as she approaches the tumbrel.

“M-Maz?” She hears a familiar voice, and she grins up at the lanky boy whose eye is wide in alarm. He holds onto the bars of the tumbrel, eye dashing around at the scene of chaos. “What are you doing? What’s going on?” He looks a bit haggard, like he hasn’t slept but what else is new? 

She scoffs at him and brandishes her broken spoon. “The hell does it look like I’m doing, boy? We’re liberatin’ you before you swing.” She looks around at the few Milovans that have hit the dirt, and spots the one with the key. 

He seems to have regained his composure some as she returns to the door with the key. “Oh my dear, aren’t you a sight for the sore eye. Is that a new scarf?” He gives her a tired grin and she snorts while she unlocks the door.

“You know damn well this isn’t a new scarf, kid.” She swings the door open and his bravado dies instantly as he looks out of the cage door. “What’s wrong boy? Get while the gettin’s good.” He hesitantly steps from the tumbrel as one of her men saunters over.

“What we gonna do about the mess, Cap’n?” He asks, giving Julian a quick grin. Julian returns it, though it doesn’t reach his eye. It’s still dashing about, like he’s trying to come up with something. 

“Throw ‘em in the tumbrel.” She says waving at the cage, she doesn’t take her eyes off the gangly boy in front of her. She knows that look. There’s something going on that she isn’t aware of. “Over here, boy.” She grabs his arm and tugs him away from the tumbrel, to give the men room to work. “Spill it.” 

Julian fidgets with his gloves, tugs on his unkempt shirt, even tears at his hair a bit. She knows these movements, something is eating at him. She fixes him with a stare and he finally stills, cowering some under her gaze.

“Don’t make it say it again, Ilya.”

“Oh Maz, I’m so glad you came, really, I am. It’s a valiant attempt at saving me from my fate but--”

“It’s not your fate to hang, Ilya.” She argues.

His face falls, he looks at his feet. “I don’t know how to explain this, but today I must hang. Everything depends on it.”

She grabs the collar of his shirt and forces him down a few inches so she can see his face better. “What kind of tomfoolery are you trying to feed me boy?”

His eye looks up to meet hers and she can see something in it that she hasn’t seen in a long, long time. Purpose. She releases his collar in shock.

“Please Maz, if there was ever a time to trust me… Well, my dear, today would be it. I have to do this. All of Vesuvia depends on it.” His voice is barely above a whisper. He grabs her shoulders with shaking hands. “Please, please. I need you to trust me.”

“I’ve never doubted you. Sometimes you just needed a little help along the way.” She pats his cheek with a meaty hand and sighs. “Someone has to help you, when you refuse to help yourself.” 

His mouth falls open for a moment before he closes it and gives her a soft smile. “I know, thank you.” His voice is so small she can barely hear it over the commotion behind them.

“What’s the plan then? How can I help?” 

He gives her the haphazard details of his plan. She doesn’t like it. It’s too risky, but she can see the resolve in him grow as he explains. With a pained blink of her eyes she’s made her decision. 

“Alright, Ilya. If you’re gonna do this… Let’s make the most of it…”

Miranda slowly follows the flow of people as they enter the Town Square. She pulls Mazelinka’s shawl closer around her face to keep her identity hidden, but it seems unnecessary as no one is paying her any mind. All attention is forward, to the rickety and thrown together gallows that loom next to the Town Square’s fountain. She can’t help but stare at the gallows along with everyone else. It’s dark wood stands in contrast to the white marble of the fountain, and seems to suck in all of the light from the square. Or maybe it was her imagination, but there was no denying the melancholy the sight gave her. 

With any luck, they would never need to be used--but something was telling her somewhere deep within her intuition that these gallows would be a place of sadness today. Sadness and something else, the latter being an uneasy feeling she can’t quite peg. Uneasy… but necessary. Like the feeling she gets when she draws the Tower card in her deck. She wasn’t a seer, but she knew to trust her intuition, she needed to be on her toes today. 

She listens to the people as they converse amongst themselves, some lamenting the dire deed to be done, some celebrating it with gusto. There is an obvious difference between the types of people. The Nobles within Vesuvia seem to be the more excited to see Julian hang, to see revenge come upon the man who supposedly killed their beloved Count. There are a few children running about excited and chortling about the day's events, oblivious to it’s true macabre meaning. She hopes their mothers can wrangle them away from the scene before things get ugly. 

As the hour draws closer to noon she can feel her nerves making her jittery. Butterflies dance in her stomach and her palms become sweaty. Her aquamarine eyes dance along the rooftops of the buildings in the distance, waiting and hoping to see the sign that Mazelinka and her contingent were successful in liberating Julian. And along the horizon waiting for the sign from Muriel that he liberated Asra from his cell in the Coliseum. 

A carriage entering the square grabs her attention and she watches it as it circles the fountain before coming to a stop near the gallows. The crowd around her hushes to low murmurs as Consul Valerius, Praetor Vlastomil and Pontifex Vulgora exit, and climb the stair onto the gallows stage. 

She can feel a chill run down her spine as she observes the three Courtiers. There's something very off about them, something she hadn't noticed about Valerius yesterday evening. Perhaps it was being caught off guard that allowed her to overlook it--there was no way to be sure. She watches them with a keen eye now, she can see magic at work all around them. Powerful magic. The same, yet different from the magic she felt from Valdemar before they fled from the dungeon. 

This was no ordinary magic. This was Arcane magic, from one of the Arcana themselves… but which one? She tries to concentrate, and can barely make out what might have been black chains around their forms before she's distracted by Valerius raising his hand to quiet the people.

"People of Vesuvia," he says regally, his voice surprisingly carrying well throughout the square. "As you are aware; the wanted criminal Doctor Julian Devorak has been apprehended and we are here to see his sentence through. At high noon he will be brought to justice for the heinous murder of our late Count Lucio of Vesuvia."

Parts of the crowd around her erupt into cheers and applause. Others in response sneer and boo, there was even a small scuffle some ways off to her right. Another carriage makes its way into the square but it keeps its distance on the far side of the fountain. Valerius continues his speech but she's only half listening as she peers at the carriage. She could almost swear she saw the silhouette of horns through the curtain.

"--understand that this affair is polarizing among the people. However, justice must be done. For this purpose we have hired mercenaries to assist with the security of the square. Do not be alarmed by them, treat them as you would the guard." Valerius continues.

That's when she notices them. The dark outfits of the Milovan Mercenaries dotting all along the crowd, and around the gallows. How had she missed their appearance? She frowns at the number of them, far more than she had expected. This might put a wrench in the plans if Mazelinka isn't successful.

Her eyes dart back up to the roof tops. Still no signal. The sun is almost at its peak in the sky. She can feel her stomach squirm unpleasantly. Wait, there! In the sky she can see just the barest hint of green sparks lighting the sky in the direction of Goldgrave. Muriel was successful then. She can feel her chest relax from tension she wasn't aware she had. Asra was safe, her Asra was safe. 

To the left a tumbrel makes its way across a canal bridge towards the square and murmurs of excitement turn to confusion as it approaches. Sitting on top of the cage instead of inside it is Julian, a large grin plastered across his face. It's surrounded by Mazelinka's men, with a pile of dark leathered bodies inside the cage of the tumbrel. Confusion turns to panic and cheers, orders from the mercenaries are barked to keep order. Valerius on the gallows stage sneers, swirling his wineglass unamused. The Praetor looks aghast and the Pontifex barks out an obnoxious laugh.

With dramatic flair that she knew could only be pulled off by Julian, he stands on top of the tumbrel and opens his arms wide, which gets him many cheers, and a few muffled curses.

Miranda is so stunned by the scene she barely has time to grasp what was happening. Did the plan fail? He's free isn't he, why isn't he escaping? Why has Mazelinka allowed him here? She scans the men as they escort the tumbrel close to the gallows and she spots Mazelinka, looking up at Julian with a mixed expression of exasperation and fondness. 

Was the plan changing?

As the tumbrel comes to a halt, Julian is jarred some and has to work to keep his balance. He just manages to keep his feet and he laughs a loud boisterous sound that echoes in the square. The crowd is cowed down to a low murmur as they wait to see what happens.

The mercenaries move to surround the tumbrel, but Mazelinka's men keep them at bay, brandishing their weapons. Before violence can break out Julian's deep voice reverberates through the square.

"Here I am Vesuvia! Here and ready to be your afternoons morbid entertainment." He stands tall, arms wide, smirk so much extra  _ Julian _ than usual. The crowd around him cheers, though she can tell they're confused on if they should be. 

"What the hell are you useless fools doing? GET HIM DOWN FROM THERE." Vulgora charges towards the tumbrel but they're held off for the moment by Julian's escort. 

Miranda watches the scene in horror, Julian's confident face as he smirks at the crowd is making her shake. What is he planning? What is he doing? 

"But first!" He raises his voice to be heard over Vulgora and their grumbling of threats towards the men guarding the cart. "Hear my words Vesuvia, and heed my warning. Your city and Countess are under siege! As I stand before you now, your Countess is being held prisoner in her own palace by a mutant of a man claiming to be your Count!"

"Would you just SHUT UP!" Vulgora screeches from the stage and launches themself through the barrier of men and latches onto the cage of the tumbrel making it list from side to side. Julian on top lists with it, eye wide as he looks for a way down, deciding in a haphazard leap to jump from the tumbrel to the top beam of the gallows. 

Valerius watches the scene with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he seems unimpressed while Vlastomil next to him looks harried and unsure. 

"Don't listen to this weasel of a man." Vlastomil cries out, his hands wringing at his robes. "He killed your Count! He's a liar and a coercive sabitour!"

Julian looks down in surprise at the Praetor while doing his best to keep his balance on the beam. "Weasel?" Miranda can barely hear him squeak out.

"Oi, then where's the Countess at, yeah?" Someone from the crowd shouts.

"Yeah! He was her husband, she wouldn't miss justice being served!"

"And where's Miss Portia? She's usually the one who does the palace announcements."

"And why would they hire mercenaries to do the guards’ job?" Julian adds. "Vesuvia, do not be deceived!" 

The people murmur and writhe in the crowd, she’s jostled around a bit in their discontent. 

There’s a loud squeal of metal and a scream of rage, she looks over to see Vulgora in a fit of rage bending the metal of the cage. “SHUT UP!” They scream. 

Miranda can feel the blood drain from her face. 

“Get him down from there.” Valerius orders, stepping to the side to allow two of the mercenaries onto the stage. “Devorak, you speak nonsense. You always were a quack doctor, I’ll never understand why Lucio chose to trust you.”

“Vesuvia!” Julian ignores Valerius and the mercenaries, and shouts once again towards the crowd. “I’m here today to give myself to my fate willingly. I cannot escape this outcome, but you, the people have more power than you realize! You don’t have to submit to a false rule, or any rule you don’t wish to!” The mercenaries start to try and grab at his boots and he dances around their reaching hands. 

“Hurry up and die, Devorak!” Vulgora rages as they jump from the tumbrel and walk towards the gallows, the crowd giving them a wide berth. “No one wants to hear your crap, you killed the Count, die and pay for your crimes.”

Finally, one of the mercenaries gets a hold of Julian’s foot and they yank it back, sending him overcompensating forward and he lands hard on his stomach grabbing for purchase on the beam. Together they grab and pull him down into a mess of limbs.

Miranda gasps, heart hammering in her chest. This was it then, their last contingency plan was now to be put into action. With shaking legs she pushes her way closer to the gallows, watching with wide eyes as Julian struggles against his captors. She can do this, she  _ has _ to do this. With shaking hands she raises them up to whisper the words to the spell, building her magic up, waiting for the right moment. 

The mercenaries yank Julian to his feet, his hair messy, his shirt torn and they force him towards the noose dangling in the middle of the beam. “What has the Count ever done for the city anyway!” Julian spits out, face red and angry as he struggles. “What did he do for the sick and dying? What about the Flooded District?”

The people cheer and writhe again, angry shouts and fists thrust into the air. “Nothing! Nothing!” A chant starts in the crowd. 

“He was a plague on the city! Frivolous! Outrageous! I did you a favor, and I don’t regret a thing! I’d do it again, thousands of times over. Remember the ones who fight for you, Vesuvia!” They finally get enough control of him to get his hands tied and they lead him up to the noose. 

“That’s quite enough!” Vlastomil screeches, he motions for the executioner to do his job.

“Rise up, Vesuvia!” Julian yells out just as the lever is pulled, his body falls into the trap door and swings.

Miranda is hyperventilating, this is happening too fast. She holds the spell and aims, forcing her magic out to the rope that Julian is dangling from. It hits the rope with a red flash, and the rope remains whole. Her heart stops, the yelling in the crowd dulls to a roar in her head. She brings her magic back up, the spell ready she releases it again. Another red flash, and no damage to the rope. 

“No, no, no, no…” Again she releases the spell, a flash, and nothing. 

The people surge forward, forcing her towards the gallows. She looks around in a panic, it’s not working. It’s not working! The crowd storms the gallows as Julian swings, they push and pull at the rickety gallows, causing it to groan and lean. The Courtiers yell and try to regain control but ultimately they flee the stage to their carriage. Mercenaries are taken over by the sheer multitude of people, being dragged over to the tumbrel and tossed inside with their unconscious brethren. 

With a loud crash, the stage of the gallows succumbs to the forces on it and the beam looses it’s support and tumbles to the cobblestone, taking Julian’s limp body with it. 

She stares at him between the rush of people. He’s dead. She can see he’s dead. She can’t breathe. She failed. He’s dead and she failed. She looks down at her hands, shaking and blurring in her vision. Her legs struggle to hold her up, she tries to walk toward him but her knees buckle and she falls to the ground. 

Breathe, just breathe. She can’t. Her vision swims, her chest constricts. She rolls over onto her back, stares up at the clouds in the sky. People hurriedly step over her, surprisingly not stepping on her. Her breath never comes and she blacks out.

~Interlude End~


	11. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Death and grief. A bit of dead body descriptions if that kind of talk makes you queasy.

I’m dragged down, down, down. Whatever has my ankle has it in a steel-like grip and I struggle futilely. I claw at the object, unable to see it in the depths of the water. I’m running out of air fast, if I can’t break free I’m going to drown. I can feel my chest constrict with a sob and some precious air escapes my mouth. Maybe I should stop fighting and let it have me. I couldn’t save Julian, so it would be a fitting end…

My brain’s survival instincts win out though and I still struggle, though perhaps with a little less gusto. Just as my lungs are about to give in and take in water, the water changes. It flares hot and feels gritty. Up suddenly feels down, and the heat becomes scalding and I open my mouth to scream in pain. It’s immediately filled with the warm grit--sand?--then I’m launched into open air, light blinding me as I spin listlessly in the air. Whatever had my ankle releases me and I descend quickly landing hard on my side, wet sand bursting from my mouth on impact. 

I groan, squeezing my eyes as shut as I can. The light is blinding. My skin is burning, whatever I landed on is blazing hot, and stings. It’s hard and soft at the same time. I move my hand along it, and it moves easily under my touch, I grab at it and it gives between my fingers. I crack an eye and I’m blinded by the reflection of the sun off the sand.

Sand. Huh.

I can hear the clinking of chains retreating to somewhere, then there’s silence. 

The heat of the sun is intense on my back, the heat of the sand intense on my side and belly. What a time to be naked… I groan and cover my eyes so I can open them a touch to try to get used to the brightness. I start to be able to take in my surroundings, but there isn’t much there. Just blinding hot sand, in all directions, dunes and dunes of it. Everywhere. 

I’m in the middle of nowhere. Shit.

I sit up, keeping my hand over my eyes, my ass burning against the sand. I can feel the panic attack coming, I can feel the muscles in my back seize up, my breaths become ragged. Tears stream down my face and all I can do is try to breathe. I heave loudly, rolling back onto my side and I curl involuntarily into a ball. 

What do I do? How could this happen? Is this real? Please,  _ please _ let this not be real… Julian… Julian.

My body shakes, and I feel cold, my skin glistens with sweat. My mind begins to betray me, I can hear his melodious laughter ringing in my ears. Behind my closed eyelids, I see his mischievous smirk, the glint in his gray eye. The way the sunlight reflects off his auburn curls… All gone. He's gone, and there's no way to get him back. 

There’s a hoot or a cry, I’m not sure which, and something else lands in the sand next to me with a dull thud. I’m startled enough by it that my body allows me to jerk my head up to see a small mass of reddish brown and gray feathers in a small crater of sand. I blink. What?

The small mass struggles a bit in the sand before it rights itself with a jerk. A small beady black eye looks at me, the head it sits in jerking around wildly as it takes in the rest of its surroundings. It lets out another hoot that could possibly be construed as laughter. It shakes the sand from its feathers and stands haughtily. 

A… dove? In the desert...?

My chest releases from its stranglehold on my lungs and the air escapes with a disconcerting hiss. My muscles slacken and my body slumps in the sand. I continue to stare at the bird with wide eyes. 

“It would be a good idea to conserve your liquids while in the desert, little fool.” A soft floaty voice says to me. Almost like it’s coming from the dove. Said dove comes waddling over to my head and peers down at me with a single eye, tilting its head almost comically, almost making it lose its balance. 

It gives another laugh like hoot. “Are you the Fool, I wonder? Or would it be the other? Whoever inhabits the body at the time, maybe?” It bobs its head and puffs up its chest. 

“W-what?” I croak out. I’m talking to a dove. “This is definitely not real.”

"Real and not real have no meaning here." The dove says with a trill in its throat. It's weird to see it's throat do the talking while it's beak hangs slightly open. Is that how Malak talks? I hadn't really taken the time to pay attention.

Malak, oh poor Malak. I'm so sorry…

"I'm going insane, aren't I?" I ask of the sky as I lay down flat in my back. My skin burns where it's pressed against more sunblazed sand. 

"Everyone's a little sane and insane. The trick is to find the right balance." The dove pops its head over my face and peers down at me again with one eye.

"This coming from the bird who crashed into the sand…" I murmur.

"I said balance, not grace!" I can hear it fluff its feathers indignantly. "Your landing wasn't exactly elegant either."

"I don't have wings." I can feel a headache coming on. Why am I arguing with a bird?

"Hmm, not yet. Perhaps with time. No one knows where the path leads until they reach the end." 

What the hell kind of hogwash is this bird spewing at me? "People know the ends to paths, featherbrain. That's why they make the path to begin with, to get to the destination."

It hoots a laugh at me. "What about when they forge a new one then, little fool?"

I turn my head and glower at the bird. "Then it's not a path then is it? It's an expedition. If it comes up fruitless they abandon the route. No one makes paths that lead to nowhere!" 

"Bah, semantics."

I sit up in a huff. I have to get away from this bird. My back protests slightly but I ignore it. How am I supposed to have a proper panic attack when I'm distracted by this whacko Ave? I stand slowly and peer around the sand, hoping that with my higher vantage point of standing I would see more than just sand. No luck. 

I look at the sun shining high and hot in the sky. It's almost perfectly in the middle, like high noon. There's no way to tell directions. I pick a random dune in the distance and take a few steps towards it.

"Wrong way." The dove quips.

I stop and frown. I turn on my heel and walk a few more steps.

"Wrong way~" It trills again. I wonder how far I can punt this bird...

I turn to my right, I don't even get two steps in before--

"Wrong again." I turn around. "Nope!"

I throw my hands up and scream into the sky. "Where the hell am I supposed to go then?!"

Another coo of laughter and it struts around on the sand at my feet. "Back the way you came, dipshit." It peers up at me with a vapid black eye.

Oh this little shit bag bird… "Through the sand? Are you insane?" I stomp my foot to show it's solid, or as solid as sand can be. "That's not possible!"

It scoffs and struts around my feet again with a strange kind of swagger. "Possible, impossible, real, not real, true, false, up, down, left, right. No meaning here!" 

I rub my face, the sand sticking to it grates against my cheeks and it's not pleasant. "Could you  _ please _ start making sense, or shut the hell up?"

"Sense, nonsense, no meaning! Are you even listening?"

I growl and kick sand at it. It hoots indignantly, bouncing away with a flap of its wings. "Unnecessary!" It wails.

I throw my head back and give a disconcerting cackle. "Necessary, unnecessary, no meaning!" I snarl back at it.

It flies up and lands on my shoulder, nails digging into my bare skin just a bit. I wince and contemplate brushing it off before it speaks again. "Ah, good, you are listening." It puffs up again, shaking the sand I kicked at it from its feathers. “You’re not as bright as the other one, but everyone has their faults and strengths.” It almost mumbles into my ear. I resist the urge to slap the bird away. 

“Look,” I sigh, unconsciously crossing my arms over myself to cover my naked state. “This has been hell for me, okay? I was just chased through a forest, saw Julian-” my voice cracks, “saw someone I care for get hurt, and now I’m in the middle of a desert with no food, water or shelter. I  _ really _ don’t need to be insulted and confused by a random dove.” I pause a second to consider what I’ve just said. “Oh hell, I  _ am _ going insane. I really am! Looking for answers from a talking bird!” My legs buckle and I tumble down onto my ass again. I ignore the pain, I’m trying too hard to fight back tears.

The dove flies from my shoulder as I fall and lands, this time, gracefully before me. “You really don’t know where you are, do you?” It asks, it’s airy voice a touch more kind than before. 

“No.” I lament. 

“Strengths, weaknesses. Light, dark. Opposites. Necessary for balance.” It says lightly, and nuzzles against my leg in a strange gesture of I guess comfort? “You are the balance. The opposite. Too much energy for one soul, it had to be split in two.” It puffs up as it looks at me with that beady black eye, but the look is kind, soft even. “Magic didn’t split evenly, magic is fluid. It does what it wants, has a will of its own. Oh, magic can be cruel!” The dove shakes its head, feathers standing up angrily for just a fraction of a second. “The other got all the magic, and you became the counter, the otherside of the coin.”

I groan and put my head in my hands. It's talking nonsense again.

Wait. 

I look back up at the dove, and it gives me a smug look. “Ah, things starting to click?”

The forest… the spectres… Magic. Miranda. My sister.  _ My sister _ . 

My breath hitches and I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “The forest,” I croak, fighting back tears  _ again _ . “The forest showed me some of my past… the-the moon… I-I’m in the in-between--no I’m in the magic realms of the Arcana. I was in the Moon’s realm.” I look to the bird for confirmation and it’s little eye lights up, head perked and tilted to look at me. “What realm am I in now?” I peer around me, trying to think of what archetype would be represented by dry desert. 

“Mine.” It hoots morosely. “Not much left of it now.  _ He _ tried to pull you through into Death's realm to hand you over to his little pet, but I intercepted."

I watch the little bird next to me. All that talk of balance… I think back to Asra's tarot deck. The peaceful looking woman with the head of a dove… smoke and water. "You're Temperance." It hoots a sad little trill in response. "What's happened here? Why does this realm feel so dead? And what do you mean by ' _ he _ '?"

"There's no magic here. Or as little as a magical realm can have before it’s not a magical realm anymore.” Temperance answers.

“How can a magical realm not have magic?” 

“I think you know the answer to that, little fool. You may not be able to harness magic, but you know enough of magic theory.”

It’s right, of course. I studied--mostly out of boredom--Asra’s magic tomes and made plenty of money for the shop by utilizing circles, runes, herbs and crystals. With just a little help from me, I could get just about any customer to activate their own trinkets and wards they purchased. Magic occurs naturally, a manifestation of will. That power can be harnessed, syphoned away. Magicians do this all of the time. The Arcanum, in fact, are manifestations of human will realized into trope-like archetypes that became powerful entities. Most people don’t realize that. They treat them like demi-gods, but really they are dependent on the whims of the human experience. 

I look out over the dunes again, but this time it looks different. Almost as though there’s a visible flow of energy, coming from everywhere and all headed in one direction. I blink and it’s gone. 

“Someone is syphoning the magic from your realm.” I look back down at my companion. “But… who? Why? How?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions.” It hoots a laugh at me. I wait to see what more it will say, but it only looks at me with that damn little black eye. I can’t tell what it’s thinking.

“...you’re not going to tell me anything more, are you?” I say deadpan. I swear if birds could smirk, this one would be. 

I don’t have time to feel slighted, as the ground beneath me begins to rumble and shake. I look around alarmed, but the dove seems to be fine with it.

“Seems we’re out of time, kiddo.” It trills and dances on the sand next to me as I stand up.

“What do you mean, out of time?”

“You didn’t think I’d be able to hold him off long, did you?” It takes flight and circles above my head.

“What the hell does that mean? Wait! Don’t leave!” The ground is vibrating up my legs and I take a couple unsteady steps.

“Just remember what I said!” The dove calls back to me as it flies off into the distance. 

“Gah.” I scoff. “You said a whole lot of horseshiiiii--” Chains break the surface of the sand and I scramble away from them unable to finish my thought. I manage to dodge the first few that lunge at me, but they’re relentless and soon I find my arms and legs captured. The metal burns against my already sun beaten skin, I hiss and tug against my restraints but it’s no use. 

The sand below my feet starts to sink, and along with the pull of the chains I sink quickly into it.

~Interlude~

He knew when he hit the water he was likely going to lose his grip on her. Coming into contact with a body of water after falling from that height was bound to create forces he wasn’t able to contend with. He admits he took a bit of a risk assuming she knew how to swim, but when he thrashes about searching hands reaching for her, he thinks maybe he made a mistake. Maybe she can’t swim, or maybe the force of hitting the water knocked her out. He opens his eyes in a panic, the water is dark and he can’t see anything around him, not even his own limbs. 

Letting out some air from his nose, he feels the bubbles rise and he dives in the opposite direction. His time out at sea with pirates, and living off the coast of the Salty Sea as a child, has made him no stranger to water. Or holding his breath. He knew his limits, and he knew time was of the essence. He had no way of knowing how deep this water went, or how fast she could sink. He honestly had no way of knowing if she was anywhere near here, the oppressive darkness of the water is unlike any he’s ever been in. He forces himself deeper, struggling some with his clothes. The water gets colder as he descends, the pressure of it squeezing his skull, yet he dives on. Reaching, searching, hoping…

With a frustrated desperate wail he releases some air and follows the bubbles back to the surface. He can’t save her if he drowns himself. Or maybe she was already surfaced, freaking out that he hasn’t. He can only hope. If he was this close to sucking in water, surely she has already succumbed… He forces the thought back, he needs to surface, regroup and search again. There’s still time, still time.

He surfaces with a loud gasp, he’s pushed his lungs too far, and he shivers with the release of adrenaline. He wipes his eyes and peers around him hoping for a miracle. What he sees causes his stomach to drop. He stands, now being in waist deep water instead of what seemed like a limitless depth. All around him are what looks like maybe mangrove trees, in dark thick water. He’s in some kind of marsh, swamp or bog? The bits of sky he can see past the trees is red, almost like the reds of a setting sun, but somehow different, darker, and encompassing the entirety of the sky, not just the sunset. 

Where? How? 

Asra had warned him that if he managed to enter the realms of the Arcana that things wouldn’t make sense, things would be dangerous. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it surely wasn’t this. Not knowing what else to do, he walks slowly to what looks like steadier ground to walk on. He notices his clothes have changed from his plague times uniform back to his normal half open white undershirt, now mucky and brown from the bog water, his gray pants and thigh-boots. 

If he was here, maybe something similar happened to Marion? Maybe the water was like some kind of portal? He frowns as he thinks about the possibilities. She looked like the realms were not kind to her. Naked, alone, running through a forest for her life. She seemed so scared, and surprised to see him. Confused and hesitant to hope. He had her in his grasp. He was with her. He had, despite all odds, found her. It was a brief reunion, and their separation left him uncertain of her safety, but if he found her once, he might be able to do it again. 

With this thought spurring him on, he picks a direction blindly and walks. It’s rough going, the ground is not steady under his feet and he finds himself slipping into large puddles often. After a while of wandering, he sees a light flicker ahead in the distance. This causes him to pause, unsure of what the light might mean. Will-o’-the-wisp perhaps? The light seems more steady than a ball of glowing gas, but he’d heard that there was a reason why the phenomenon was dangerous for travelers…

But he’s not in the real world. He takes a chance and walks towards the light. The mangrove trees part suddenly as he approaches, showing a small clearing with a lantern dangling from a branch of a single tree in the middle of the clearing. Under that light stands a large dark figure, black arms crossed over a muscled chest dressed in only a red rope shibari and white shendyt skirt. Looming on its back are large black wings, and it takes a moment for Julian to register that this being has a bird’s head. More specifically, a raven’s head.

He thinks back to his chaotic scrawlings he found in his office. 

The Hanged Man.

The Arcana's large beak clacks loudly as he turns his head towards Julian. His eye is dark, but it holds a light within that is both harsh and kind. He motions for Julian to approach, but Julian hesitates. 

“Welcome back, Ilyushka.”

~Interlude End~

A violent shiver contorts my body and I groan while I wake. My head is swimming and aching, my limbs are numb and burning dreadfully at the places that feeling starts back up again. It's cold. I open my eyes to see a blanket of bright white, with tufts of gold sticking outward at odd angles from the snow. 

Snow…?

I groan again and push myself up to a sitting position. The landscape is familiar, though the blanket of snow is out of place. It hardly ever snows in Vesuvia. But there was no mistaking the forest of trees on the horizon, the silhouette of the palace and the multitudes of lemonstone aqueducts to the west. 

I reach down and grab a head of wheat that sticks out from the snow, plucking it from the stem. I idly spin it between my fingers while I will my head to stop pounding. Another shiver rolls itself up my spine and I hug myself a bit to conserve my heat. The exposed skin on my body, that is to say  _ all  _ of my skin, is red and raw and I'm not sure if it's from sunburn or cold exposure. There's no way for me to tell how long I was unconscious. Not that time has meaning here.

_ No meaning! _ Temperance's shrill voice rattles in my head as an unpleasant memory and I scowl. 

"Real, not real, hm?" I mumble to myself. I wonder what realm I'm in now? Was  _ he _ , whoever the hell  _ he  _ is, successful in dragging me into Death's realm? And why such a dramatic shift in weather between realms? Was this one affected similarly as Temperance's? 

I scan the horizon for a flow of magic. I'm almost positive I could see it in the other realm, unless I was suffering from some kind of heat stroke. I really wish that damn bird wasn't so vague. 

There. Along the aqueducts, I can see a flow, almost mirage-like coming from all directions towards a central focal point. I grit my chattering teeth and head in that direction.

Death must also be in the same boat as Temperance then, having their magic syphoned away. I wonder if I'll encounter Death themself as I did Temperance… I hope not. I'm in no mood to deal with another mystical demi-god-like-thing that will undoubtedly give me more vague and confusing nonsense.

I'm starting to become more and more thankful that Mira got all the magical talent. Let her deal with this shit. She seems to enjoy it anyway. Or at least she did, from what I can just barely grasp of my developing memory. 

Up ahead I can see some kind of door, or portal maybe, glowing slightly red and pulsing under an arch of the aqueduct. The flow leads directly to it. It gives me an ominous feeling and I give it a wide berth for the moment. 

"Aren't you lucky your sister came back from the dead too, hm?" An arid angry voice growls from my left. I spin towards it, heart in my throat. No way…

"Valdemar." I gasp. They give me a tight grin, as if they were in pain. Come to think of it, they don't necessarily look like they're having an easy time of standing. 

"No matter." They say, straightening themself. "I'm in control here. This is my realm now, I can't be overpowered where I rule." 

They rule? Is Valdemar Death? No… No, that's not right. They do have a very… death-like feel about them, but there is no way they are an Arcana. No way. 

"This is Death's realm, not yours." I say as calmly as I can. 

"Oh? Do you see Death here to challenge my claim? I am Death now, the Devil has made sure of it. Just as he has made sure that you belong to me." Their grin is wide and menacing, but I can't manage to feel fear over my surprise. 

The Devil? I can feel chains appear across my chest, tightening and burning. I look down at the black metal, confused. The picture of the Devil in Asra's deck flashes in my mind. The white goatman with black markings, surrounded by chains--midnight black chains.

Several things click in place all at once. The Arcana can't manipulate things in the real world, only attempt to influence the emotions of people. Some people are more intune with specific Arcana, like Asra being more intune with the Magician. 

One Arcana isn't any more powerful than another Arcana, so there is always a power balance. I look over to the portal sucking the magic from this realm. The power balance has shifted unnaturally.

I look back down at the chains on my chest, the chains that are the Devil's trademark. The Devil's Deal. 

"That tricky fucker…" I mumble to myself. I look back up at Valdemar, their chains are now also visible to me. They have many  _ many _ chains.

He found them. He found the humans that are the most intune with a specific Arcana… their beneficiary, one could say. He found them and he manipulated them the only way the Devil himself could do. He struck deals, many deals, gained influence over them then used them as a catalyst to syphon magic from the other Arcana. 

And Lucio… Lucio must be his beneficiary, and he’s using him to do his bidding in the real world.

Damn if that isn't fucking brilliant.

"Enjoying being a pawn of the Devil, then are you?" My voice sounds far braver than I feel.

They shrug, "It's a mutual arrangement. Everyone has something they want. Something they would pay anything for."

"You look like there were many something's you'd pay anything for." 

They give me a dark twisted smile. "Live as long and become as powerful as I have and many things become available."

How old  _ is  _ Valdemar? I'm not sure I want to know. The information is a bit telling though, it shows that the Devil has been up to no good for a long, long time.

But there's something else they said that isn't sitting right with me…

"What do you mean 'back from the dead'?" 

Valdemar's head abruptly tilts back as they give an unsettling laugh. "It must be so tiring to be so stupid." They choke out between chortles. "Lucky for you, you don't have to be smart to be useful." They extend a hand and the chains on my chest tighten uncomfortably. "Be a good girl and fulfill your end of the deal. Your sister won't save you this time."

"I wouldn't bet on that." 

I whip my head to my left so quickly that I see stars. Or maybe it was just her sparkling… I'm not sure. But there, just a ways out in the wheat field is a beautiful figure, glowing white, walking towards us. The snow at her feet melts as she approaches, the stalks of wheat righting themselves and dancing in the breeze of her magic. 

It feels like the realm is coming back to life with her presence here, so much magic is radiating from her. I can only stare gape mouthed in awe.

Valdemar clicks their tongue in annoyance, but they back away from me slowly. "I'm a patient creature, magician. I only have time on my side." They sneer at her eyes flashing, but they withdraw quickly and disappear behind a pillar of the aqueduct. The chains around me loosen, but don't disappear.

I turn to look at the vision of woman before me, she's gotten close enough that the snow underneath my feet has melted. A warm breeze across my skin causes gooseflesh. I shiver.

"You must be cold, Marion." She says to me, eyeing my state of undress. 

"Does warm or cold have meaning here?" I ask with a frown. I'm awarded with a brilliant smile from her.

"Technically no, but our minds are fickle things. It's easier to play along with our perceptions than it is to recognize that it's not necessary." She waves her hand towards me and suddenly I'm dressed in a simple peasant shirt and slacks. My frown deepens.

Damn bird could have been a little more straightforward. Would have saved me some trouble…

She comes to a stop next to me and her glow dies away to a dull pulse. She looks nervous, like she wants to say more to me but is unsure of what to say. I can sympathize. 

I mean, just hours ago I didn't even know I had a sister. Now she stands before me, glowing, in the middle of an Arcane realm after scaring off a monster that would have me be their torture pet for eternity.

What the hell do you even say in such a situation?

"Long time no see, Mira." I say lamely. I'm rewarded with another brilliant smile, her eyes glisten with happy unshed tears.

"Long time indeed, Mari." She manages to get out before her face crumples and she sobs.

"Oh Mira, don't cry." I sigh and embrace her. She throws her arms around me and squeezes. I try not to wince at the pain from my raw skin and the press of the chains into my breasts. She does cry though, and I hold her while she does. Maybe a few of my own tears mix on the ground with hers, but who's telling?

After a long serene moment, she lets out a final sniff and pulls away wiping the tears from her eyes. Slowly I do the same.

"It's been a lonely four years without you, Mira." I smile at her. "Even if I didn't remember you for three of them. Where have you been? Did you try to contact me? I… was having trouble with my memories…" I blush a bit looking down. 

"I know. You had an episode in Muriel's hut a few days ago. I stupidly jumped out and surprised you, it didn't end well…" she fidgets with the end of her hair with her fingers. 

Ah. Then that whole day makes sense now. No wonder everyone was being so timid with me. 

"But where have you  _ been _ ? Is that why Asra kept leaving? Was he visiting you? That would make sooooo much sense why he was always gone." I tap my chin in thought. I wouldn't blame him for ditching me if he was with Miranda, actually I'd be downright  _ pissed _ if he hadn't.

Her face falls slightly and she looks down at her fingers fidgeting with her hair. "No… not exactly. How much do you remember of the past?"

I rub my face hard and tug on a chain to reposition it better. "It's coming back in bits and pieces. Most of my memories are during the plague, and after becoming a test subject… but I'm sure the older ones will resurface with time." I pause. I had always wondered what kind of trauma would cause me to lose my memory. I had always referred to the event as 'the accident' but now it's plainly obvious that my brain decided to shut down so I wouldn't remember the horrors of being Valdemar's pet. "Trauma, am I right?" I laugh a bit awkwardly.

She looks up and smiles, but it's a sad smile and it causes the laugh to die abruptly in my throat. 

"Mira, what happened? What happened to us?" I can see the hurt, pain, and sadness in her eyes. She has always been so easy for me to read, either because of the twin thing or just because she's a 'heart on her sleeve' kind of person.

"Mari, we died. We died from the plague." She reaches out and takes my stiff hand. My whole body has gone rigid without my consent, but it's not the compulsion this time, merely shock.

"What?" I whisper.

"We died. You had disappeared… Valdemar had already gotten to you I suppose. You were sick, I could just…  _ feel  _ it. I went looking for you… for months I searched clinics, morgues… I watched the boats at the docks as they loaded up the sick to send off to quarantine." She shivers and my hand becomes pliant in hers and I grab her fingers and squeeze.

"I met this goofy doctor who begged me to become his apprentice." She looks up and gives me a coy smile, I cock my head to the side in confusion. "I accepted, told him my plight and he helped me look for you. Found you, even. Brought you to me. Only…" her face crumples again and she fights to keep control. I wait patiently, but I have a feeling I know what she'll say next.

"You were already dead." She finally manages to whimper out. "Valdemar had used you and abused you until you had nothing left to give. You died on a vivisection table alone and in pain." She squeezes my hand back and takes a few deep breaths to calm herself. 

For some reason this information isn't causing me panic. If there was ever a reason to suffer from panic induced attacks you'd think this would be it. But instead I feel calm. And it's this calm that makes me realize that it's all true. I'd been fretting for the last three years about my past, my 'accident'... Knowing now, as traumatic as it is to hear, is calming. I give a small giggle and I squeeze her hands again, she looks up at me in confusion.

"I wasn't alone Mira. 069… er, my uh,  _ friend  _ Julian was with me." The memory is dull, but it's there. I can hear the panic in his voice, I remember hearing the scuffle of altercation between him and the other doctors. After that it's a muddled mess of feelings, pain, confusion and then peace. I guess that's when I died. "He made life in that hell hole a bit more tolerable." I can't help but smile just a tad thinking back on our 'conversations'. 

She smiles back at me. "Julian does have that effect. He's good at distraction, either from himself or from you." 

I startle, "You know Julian?" 

"He was the goofy doctor I mentioned." She smirks at me. That takes a moment to register.

"Then… surely he would have recognized me? Maybe not  _ me  _ me, but surely you by proxy?" 

She shakes her head. She pales suddenly, eyes shining. She looks stricken and guilty, sad even. 

"...how did you die then?"

She flushes scarlet and looks away. "J-Julian,” She visibly chokes while saying his name, “brought you to me, and I took you to the Lazaret. There I… got sick and died. We both burned in the crematorium."

I stare at her for a moment, numbness making my limbs heavy. I can feel a heat in the pit of my stomach begin to boil and I don't recognize the feeling until it's almost too late.

" _ Miranda Eileen Casteel _ ." I growl through clenched teeth. The chains across my chest tighten and begin to burn. “Why would you do such a fucking stupid and foolhardy thing like--” my lecture is cut off by the searing pain of the chains and I yelp falling to my knees, grabbing and writhing to make the burning stop.

“Mari!” she falls to the ground next to me, eyes wide. “What’s happening?” She reaches out to touch me and I swat her hand away.

“Don’t touch the chains, they’re hot!” I ground out, gasping and shuddering. I try to control my emotions, undoubtedly my unexpected anger is what caused this. 

“Chains? What--” She gasps. “Oh, oh no. What have you done?” 

The burning has calmed, and I grab at the chains and lift them slightly from my chest, trying to let cool air flow in between. I glance up at Mira and she's staring at me stricken, emotions running a gambit in her eyes. 

“ _ Marion Elise Casteel _ .” She growls at me, and I can’t help but smirk at her. She’s nowhere near as scary angry as I can be. “ _ What have you done?! _ ”

I fall back on my rump and I let out a bark of laughter. It’s hollow and disturbing, just like how I feel right now. “I did it for you!” I wail between fits. “I did it for the shop! For your future, and for Asra’s. How do you think Valdemar has such complete control of me? I agreed to this! I made a deal!” My laughter becomes almost hysterical. “And then you go and get the plague by taking my dead ass to the Lazaret?!  _ Fuck, Mira _ !” My laughter sounds conspicuously like sobbing.

Miranda isn’t laughing though, and she stares at me with hard eyes. “How could you do such a thing, Mari? I know you know better. How many times did Auntie warn us about deals with the Devil? How the Devil always gets his due?”

“I was dying, Mira. I had already contracted the plague.” I say sobering back up. “I had nothing else to lose, and everything to gain for you.”

“I’ve never asked you to be my protector.” She sighs at me, closing her eyes.

“Comes with the sister territory.” I mumble. “Besides, it was my fuckup that you were going to have to pay for, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

She takes a deep breath, almost like she does when she’s centering herself for a spell. My eyebrows pinch together as I watch her. What is she planning? Her head cocks to the side, almost like she’s listening to something, or someone. I have a bad feeling about this.

She opens her eyes, and they’re white, glowing. 

“Mira, what--”

Her hands shoot out and grab the chains so fast I have no time to respond. I shout in alarm then pain as they flare red hot again, but it only lasts a few seconds, not even long enough for me to get my wits and attempt to stop her. The chains flare again and quake before cracking and all but disintegrating into dust.

She pants and leans back, also falling onto her rump. Her body shivers from the exertion. 

“What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened.” I stare at her, completely afraid to move.

She opens her eyes and she looks tired. Tired but happy. “I broke the chains. Valdemar can’t get you now.”

“What.” I say deadpan.

“I broke the deal.” She smiles triumphantly at me.

“How.” I’m not sure my voice could sound anymore dead.

“I just… felt like I could.” She shrugs.

“...right.” Anything else I had planned to say dies on my tongue as the ground begins to shake. I look up and the sky flashes red.

“Yikes, looks like someone isn’t happy I did that.”

I stand quickly and pull her up with me. “Time to go.” I look around for a place to hide or something and the portal catches my eye. I can still see the magic flowing into it, but behind the flow I can see the dark starry sky of the in-between. Staying in this realm is not an option, Valdemar may not have control over me anymore, but they do seem to have more power in this realm and it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. 

I drag my sister towards the portal, and she doesn’t hesitate to follow. Instead she muses out loud as we approach. “What could a portal be doing here? It’s not a normal thing for the Arcana to visit one another…”

“It’s a portal for stealing magic.” I say and stop just before it. The ground shakes again, and this time I can hear a wail of anger echo off the forest trees. “Think it’s safe to go through?”

She nods, “Looks safe to me.”

I brace myself and pull her through with me.

“I have a theory.” I say casually as we stand on a pathway of stars suspended in the dark inky blue of the in-between.

“I’m listening.” Miranda says, voice sounding amused. 

I watch the flow of magic as it waves itself along the pathway. It’s a lazy, but steady flow. I can see it move through me, but I don’t feel it’s current. I wonder briefly if Miranda can. “The Devil is up to something…”

She snorts. “When isn’t he? It’s like what he does.” 

“Hear me out.” I take a few steps out, looking and watching for the sources of the flow. I already know the destination, I need to find out which Arcana have already been compromised. “Can you see the magic?”

She looks at me startled. “The magic? Mari, everything here is magic.”

“No, I mean the flow.” I point to it, tracing it’s path with my finger. 

“No.” She says, brows pinching together. Now it’s my turn to startle. Surely of the two of us, she’d be the more intune with a current of magic…

“It’s stolen magic. All heading in this direction.” I point behind me. “All headed towards the Devil’s realm, I’m almost positive.” 

“From where?” 

“The other Arcana. While I’ve been here, I’ve been to three realms and talked to one Arcana. The Moon’s realm didn’t seem affected, so I think it’s safe to assume no issues there. But Temperance and Death…”

She nods, understanding. “Death’s realm did feel… barren. The realm was all too happy to see me. Which Arcana did you speak to?”

“Temperance.” I frown. “It… wasn’t the easiest conversation I’ve ever had.” I motion for us to walk and we make our way against the current of magic. “Their realm was a desert, also barren. Talking to Valdemar in Death’s realm gave me an idea as to why. The Devil… he’s found the humans with the strongest ties to certain Arcana. Made deals with them…”

She stops walking next to me, I turn to and see her stock still with wide eyes. “Catalysts…” 

I smirk. “Exactly.”

“How many?” She whispers. “And to what end?”

“I don’t know for sure. Two definitely, Temperance and Death. I can say with certainty that the Moon is safe, but the others…?”

“The Chariot is safe.” She says as she resumes walking and catching up with me. “I was in her realm recently. If you can see the flow of magic like you say, then--”

“I plan to follow the flow and see which others are in trouble. Maybe… maybe we can find the beneficiaries and…” I peek over at her. She’s seemed to have regained her strength after breaking my chains, it almost didn’t seem that hard for her to do. It’s a shot in the dark, but if she can break the Devil’s Deals, then maybe there’s a chance we can save the drained Arcana from the Devil. 

“...and break their deals?” She finishes for me. She taps her chin slowly, and I wait for her to come to her own conclusion. “If I could break yours, theoretically, I should be able to break any of them.” She shrugs. “I’d be willing to try.”

“Great! Now, we just need to identify which ones are afflicted.” 

“Wait, Mari.” She grabs my shoulder to stop me. “We don’t literally have to walk to each realm. Here, give me your hands.”

I frown, but I do as she asks. 

“Distance has no meaning here. What you can see with your eyes has no meaning either.” She smiles at me.  _ No meaning! No meaning! _ I cringe at the sound of Temperance in my head. “Close your eyes and follow the flow with your mind, tell me what you see.”

I eye her dubiously, but I comply and close my eyes. I can see the flow in my mind’s eye and I follow it. Just like she said distance doesn’t seem to have meaning and it feels like I’m traveling a thousand miles an hour for short and long distances in spurts. When the first numeral flashes across my vision it catches me off guard. 

“Five.” I say with a startled voice. “Six.” I count off the numerals as they flash to me. “Eleven. Thirteen. Fourteen. Sixteen.” I open my eyes, I look at my sister with uncertainty. 

She’s smiling at me. “Hierophant, Lover’s, Justice, Death, Temperance, and Tower.” 

I’m put off by how easy that was. 

“You need to go back now.” She looks sad but determined, she squeezes my hands. “Only a person who’s dealt with the Devil can see the Devil’s deals. You need to go back to the real world and find the beneficiaries.”

“Okay, let's go then.” I shrug. 

“I can’t. I can’t go with you.”

“Why the hell not?” I frown. 

“Only one of us can go at a time.” She smiles sadly. “The universe chose you to have it, so it should be you.”

What? “I can’t break the chains, Mira. What good does it do us for me to go alone? Why can’t you come?”

“When you get back, ask Asra. I believe it’s his story to tell.”

Boy, am I tired of hearing that line. “Mira, just tell me.” I scowl. 

She reaches up and grabs my cheeks, her eyes begin to water. “I’m so sorry Marion.” She chokes out. “I’ll-I’ll do my best on this side. Together we can find out what the Devil is planning, but we have to be apart to do it. Besides, your friends need you. They need your strength. Things are getting a bit crazy on the other side.” Large tears drop from her eyes and I stare at her in shock. 

“Mira…” 

“I’m so sorry about Julian.” She whispers. “Please forgive me.”

Her eyes flash white, I try to call out to her but my voice doesn’t come, I try to grab her but my hands go through her. My vision wavers and all I see is white. 

The smell of incense is strong and I wrinkle my nose at the potency. It’s a familiar scent, bringing a strong feeling of homesickness. Sandalwood. Asra would always burn some after I had a particularly trying day, especially after an episode. I squint an eye open, half expecting to see the ceiling of our loft, but I recognize that the ambient sounds are all wrong. A high stone ceiling is what greets me, and I open the other eye to focus. 

Shadows dance across the stone from the single candle in the room, the room is sparse of furniture, just the single cot I lie on, a wooden stool and a small wooden table. I can see the line of smoke dance into the air from the burning incense. No window. I can feel the chill of the earth, so I must be underground. I swing my legs over the edge of the cot and I frown as I try to untangle myself from the long skirt. I hate skirts and dresses. My accident prone ass needs as little fabric as possible around my legs so I don’t trip and eat shit.

Why am I in a skirt? My last memory in the real world was me naked in a cage. I reach up and touch my hair. It’s there, and even longer than usual. Am I still in the magic realms then? Where am I? 

The door to the room opens and a small figure steps inside carrying a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses. They pause as they see that I’m awake, and I can see that it’s Tabby. 

“You’re awake.” She says, hesitant. “Which… which one are you? It’s hard to tell.”

My brows pinch together and I frown. “What the hell does that mean?”

The look on her face instantly changes from unsure to relieved. “Marion then, good. Not that I don’t like Miranda, it’s just… You’re easier to be around.”

“When are you going to start making sense?” I rub my eyes. Nothing makes sense anymore, I don’t know why I keep letting myself get broadsided by strange things. 

“Asra, he said it was a toss up on who it would be that wakes. I’m glad he gave me heads up. I’m gonna have to say, this is some weird ass shit you’re into. Glad I’m not you.” She walks fully into the room and sets the pitcher on the table.

“Not by my choice.” I grumble and she laughs at me. 

“Water?” 

“Please.” I take the glass and down it in one gulp. “Where’s Asra? Is he here?”

“Yeah, but he’s with Trabor and Mazelinka right now. They’re trying to discuss what to do with the Countess.” She sighs and sits on the stool next to me. 

“The Countess? What’s going on with Nadia?”

“First name basis, huh?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Are you friends or something?”

“Well, I mean, she’s not so bad. I think she means well, she’s just in a tough spot dealing with how things are in the city and the death of her husband, so…” I shrug. 

“You’ll need to tell that to Trabor then. I don’t think they’re going to come to any sort of conclusion right now anyway.”

“What’s going on Tabby? I’m obviously out of the loop here.”

She sighs, and it’s a long tired sigh. “I guess you could say we’re in some kind of rebellion? It wasn’t necessarily the plan to begin with, but it’s the path Devorak set us on at the hanging--” She abruptly cuts herself off, face blanching and eyes wide.

“Hanging?” I ask, voice small. 

“Y-yeah.” She looks down at her hands. “Oh Marion, I’m so sorry…” 

It was real then, or as real as a vision sent by the Moon could be. I take an unsteady breath. “So, he’s…”

“Yeah.” She reaches her hand out to me, but I shy away. “Sorry.” 

“Where is he?” I manage to croak out past the tightness in my throat. Would it be too much to hope that his body wasn’t disposed of? That… maybe I could see him one last time? 

“He’s here, in the market. Mazelinka had him brought here. I think she’s in denial, or maybe she needs time to grieve.” She eyes me warily. “I suppose you’d like to see him?”

I nod, I’m not sure my voice is going to work anymore, and if I try to speak I’ll probably end up crying. 

“Right, okay. Now?” I nod again. 

The room she leads me to is dark, the only light coming from the open doorway. The furniture is the same as the room I was in, a cot, a table and a stool. I can see his boots poking out from under the sheet they’ve laid over him, his legs being too long for the cot and the sheet. My chest constricts. It doesn’t feel real. 

Tabitha hovers behind me at the doorway, I can feel her nervous energy. “Do you want to be alone?” 

“Please.” I turn to smile at her, but by the look on her face it must be a hollow and empty smile. “Thank you.” I wait until her footsteps are merely a faint echo before I step into the room. I light the candle and close the door. 

“Oh, Julian…” I grab the stool and place it near his head. “This isn’t how things were supposed to go.” I plop onto the stool and put my head in my hands. “This is all my fault, if I had been stronger… if I hadn’t made that  _ fucking deal _ . I’ve screwed everything up, as usual. And once again it’s someone I care about who gets hurt.” I can’t fight back the sobs and I let them come. I cry until my voice is hoarse, my ribs hurt and my eyes ache. 

I don’t know how much time has passed, and frankly I don’t care. I lift my head and I stare at the profile of his face under the sheet. I’m afraid to look, but I know I need to. I rub my eyes and steel my nerves. I reach out and lift the sheet from his face, and fold it neatly under his chin. The bruise from the noose is dark and ugly around his jaw and ears, and I fight back the urge to be sick. Instead I concentrate on his hair, his wild shock of hair, the line of his eyepatch parting it to the side. His eyes are sunken, even more than usual, he must not have gotten a good night's sleep in the dungeon. Oh what must have been going through his head that night? 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” I reach out and touch his sunken cheek. His skin is cool, but not as cool as I had expected. How long ago was the hanging? I frown. I reach under the sheet and grab his hand, his limbs are malleable. So rigor mortis hasn’t set in, or it’s already passed. That’s a large window of time, not enough to help tell me anything. I contemplate looking to see if the blood has pooled under him, but the thought is dreary and I can’t get myself to look. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, he’s gone. The when isn’t important anymore. 

I pull his left hand out from under the sheet and carefully remove his glove. There against his pale skin is the murderer’s brand. I trace it idly with a thumb.

"I remember you, you know." I whisper to him. I know it's crazy to talk to a dead person, but I just… I need to. "From before, I mean. During the plague. The Moon showed me a few things about my past, and now my memory is coming back. A little here, a little there, you know. Memory; it's such a fickle process in our brain. 

"You were one of the doctors, Valdemar called you 069. I'm not sure why all of you adhered to calling each other by numbers but… I guess it doesn't matter now. Your hair was honestly the first thing to stick out to me. You see, I couldn't see color while under the compulsion, except for red. So your hair used to shine like a beacon to me, I always found myself looking for it." I laugh a little, it gets stuck in my throat and I have to clear it before I can continue. 

"You used to tell me stories while you worked, I particularly used to enjoy the ones about your time in the battlefield triages. You have no idea how much of a relief it was to have  _ some _ kind of interaction with another person…"

I slip myself onto the floor and I lean back against the cot, keeping his hand in my own. "There was no way for you to know this, but I named all of your leeches. There was Hemogoblin, Clotterton, Plasmania… and you have no idea how amused I was the day I saw you labeled NO. I liked to think it was because I always tapped 'no' to you when you got that bastard out." I lean my head back against his side and I laugh again. "He must have been one of those forbidden leeches that you mentioned at the Red Market." I close my eyes, they sting from being dry, and they're probably bloodshot. My cheeks feel tight from the salt water drying on my skin. 

"Anyway, what I wanted to say… is thank you. For keeping me sane. For trying to save me. For helping my sister…" I frown. "Not sure I approve of you letting her take me to the Lazaret, but we Casteel girls are a stubborn lot, so I'll have to give you a pass." I pat his hand to express my sympathy. 

"I just… wanted to say that. While I still had the chance, you know…" tears sting my eyes again and they leak from the corners with my eyes already closed, they tickle past my earlobes and run down the back of my neck. 

I pull my knees to my chest, adjusting the skirt to sit right, and set his hand on top of them. 

"You'll forgive me, right?" I sigh, leaning my head back once more. "This really wasn't how things were supposed to go."

~Interlude~

" _ Malak wants inside. _ " Faust whispers in his ear. He glances at her with dull interest, having been bored out of his mind listening to everyone fight about what should be done about Nadia. It didn't matter what they decided, if he didn't like it he was going to bust her out. Really it was just a waste of time being here anyway.

The only one he felt any emotion for was Portia, who sat off to the side, eyes red from crying but a determined look on her face nonetheless. Poor thing just lost her brother-at least as far as she is aware of-she was just liberated from being a prisoner at her place of employ, and now she sits being one of the only voices in Nadia's favor. His heart truly went out to her, and once Ilya woke up he knew things would get slightly better, so he just gives her an encouraging smile before he stands.

"Asra?" Trabor calls questioningly after him. He was sure they wouldn't notice his absence with all their pointless bickering.

"If you come to a decision, let me know. I'll tell you afterward if it's the right one to make." He sighs. "Right now I have friends to tend to."

The room is silent as he exits and he frowns. This whole operation is unorganized and flying by the seat if it's pants. Leave it to Ilya to complicate a simple enough matter of a rescue mission...

He rubs his face. No, that wasn't fair. Even with the debacle of starting a rebellion unintentionally, he was still treading the unknown and risking his life to find the cure to the reemerging plague and with any luck finding Marion along the way. 

Ilya was doing what he was able. Asra supposed it was time for him to do the same.

"Where is he, Faust?" 

" _ Outside the room. _ " 

"Right." Slowly he makes his way down the corridors of the dungeons of the Coliseum. It was like a small city down here with the way the Red Market and such have been set up. He never had cause to venture this far down, but seeing how it's upkept he has to admit they have a nice operation going. 

He rounds the corner and he can hear scratching and pecking along a wooden door. He smirks at the black bird as it squawks happily upon seeing them. It jumps about the hallway in a circle just before the door that leads to the room where Ilya's body is being kept. 

As he gets closer he notices that he has something clasped in his beak. Something gold? He snorts to himself.

"Brought your friend a bauble, did you?" He asks amused as Malak hums and dances at the threshold. He opens the door and is slightly confused by the shaft of light that comes from within. Malak wastes no time jumping into the room, bouncing his way over to the cot. 

Asra finds he's relieved to see Malak so chipper. If Ilya was really in any kind of danger, surely Malak would be an absolute mess. A familiar would know. He smirks thinking about if Ilya knew that Malak was his familiar or if he thought he just had a strange bird following him around. Should he tell him when he wakes? 

He decides against it. 

"Asshole, asshole." Malak grumbles inside the room and this peaks Asra's interest. He opens the door just a tad more and sticks his head in, Faust as well.

There he sees Malak bouncing around a figure sitting on the floor next to the cot, head leaned back and obviously asleep if Malak hasn't gotten their attention. He stills upon further inspection. So, Marion was the one to wake, hm? 

Malak drops the bauble-perhaps it was a cufflink?-onto Marion's lap then jumps onto the cot next to her head. 

Is she holding his hand? Asra's heart squeezes as he realizes that's what she's doing. He can't help the warm feeling building in his chest. She really does like him then, she must be waiting for him to wake up. He smiles at the scene. Maybe, just maybe he can let this relationship play out a bit longer without judgement. See where it leads. He owes the two of them that much.

Malak fluffs his feathers and settles himself at Marion's head, pulling and preening her hair to fluff around him as if making a nest. 

" _ Cute. _ " Faust comments, flicking her tongue in his ear. He smiles at her and closes the door.

"I suppose you're right." 

~Interlude End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malak~ Give me all your shiny bullshit. I want your love.


	12. The Hanged Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get out, and I'm also sorry it's shorter than usual. My creative juices haven't been flowing and life got hard for a little bit.

_ I grunt from exertion as I push the shitty door open to my office/bedroom, and it yields under my weight with a loud squeal of protest. Man, I really need to oil those hinges… I nearly trip on the threshold and I just manage to heft the crate in my hands high enough to have it land on another one in a small stack of them. The bottles inside clink harshly and I cringe, waiting for the high pitched crack to tell me I’ve broken one or more. Thankfully it doesn’t come and I grin to myself as I look over the multitude of wooden crates I’ve managed to get my hands on. There are even more waiting out at the docks for me, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to them before they’re noticed to be missing.  _

_ I need to get to work.  _

_ I wipe the sweat from my brow and grab the metal bar that I’ve fitted to be a makeshift crowbar and I crack the crate I’ve just lugged in open. I grin down at the fancy wine bottles poking out amongst the packing twine used to keep them from damaging each other. This is the good shit too. I feel a warm tug of smugness caress my chest and I bask in it. _

_ What better way to get back at those smug ass nobles than to steal their wine? Oh, I know, steal the  _ alcohol _ from said wine. Should be interesting watching them get “tipsy” on glorified grape juice. They probably won’t even taste the difference. Those lush noble bastards.  _

_ I pull a bottle out and examine the wax seal. That should be easy enough to replicate. I take the bottle over to my hearth and suspend the bottle over a metal tray already there. It won’t take but a few minutes to heat the wax enough to peel off. I turn to the large table in the middle of the room, decorated with an array of glass beakers and tubes, already fitted into three makeshift distilling apparatuses. I place the candles under the large flasks and get my cooling water ready.  _

_ The wax is hot enough to peel, so I do, and I pop the cork of the first bottle. I can’t help but waft the smell to my nose. Wow, this really is the good shit. I get to pouring the wine into the flask and light the candles. Distilling this much wine will take a while, but it’s worth it for Lyra to have the alcohol for sterilization. Just because there’s a plague, doesn’t mean babies don’t stop being born, after all. The least I can do is try to give the new babies the best chance at surviving, the rest of us are probably screwed. _

_ I wonder if some of the doctors would want the alcohol too? I know it’s not going to be medical grade, but when times are desperate… I’ll have to ask Trabor after I give Lyra what she needs.  _

_ I’m almost a whole crate into distilling when there’s a timid knock on the door. I glance up from pouring the condensing water into the tube. “Come in.”  _

_ The door squeals in protest again and I can’t help but wince at the sound. I see Rory’s dirty blonde head peek in, not daring to push the door any farther. “Oh! Looks like you’ve gotten started without me.” His hazel eyes are wide and round as he looks at my setup. _

_ “No thanks to you…” I frown at him over my apparatus. He gives me a sheepish smile.  _

_ “Gloria isn’t easy to sneak away from you know…” he grumbles and pushes the door open in one large quick jerk, making the hinges squeak just a bit instead of that horrid squeal. “You really should do something about this door.” He closes it the same way. _

_ “Yeah, yeah. It’s on my to-do list. Isn’t a priority. Get over here and start melting the wax on this next crate.” I motion to said crate with my head. “How’d you sneak past your sister-guard this time?” _

_ “I waited until she fell asleep. She’s been working extra hours and she’s exhausted.” He shrugs and cranks open the crate.  _

_ “Smoothe.” I cock an eyebrow at him.  _

_ “What? You know how she is.” He looks defensive, and blushes. I decide to leave it be. Their sibling issues aren’t my concern, and really I have no advice I can give him. At least he’s still  _ talking _ to his sibling.  _

_ “Who helped you get these crates down here?” He asks in way of changing the subject.  _

_ I laugh, but it’s a dry sardonic laugh. “Only me, myself and I!” _

_ His pale face burns bright red. “Sorry…”  _

_ “Don’t be sorry yet, there’s more at the dock. There’s still a chance at redemption.” I smirk at him. He looks relieved and he smiles back. He takes a few bottles over to the hearth, a small happy smile on his face. He hums while he works, his thin body hunched over the tray in the fire. He needs to eat more. I look down at myself, we both need to eat more. I frown and continue my work.  _

_ I’m not sure how long we’ve worked, but I can see quite a few bottles repacked, now alcohol free when I hear a suspicious hiccup from over at the fire. I peer over the glass at my partner in crime as he sways slightly on his feet. I narrow my eyes at him and listen harder. He giggles, and sways again. I roll my eyes, and smile. I blow the candles out and sneak up behind him.  _

_ “Shame on you Rory! Over here sneaking sips!” I grab the open bottle from his hand, and he looks up at me from his crouched position, inebriation making his cheeks a toasty red, but his eyes are wide from getting caught. He hiccups again and it makes his whole frame quake.  _

_ I laugh and plop down on a closed crate next to him and take my own drawl from the wine. He squeaks and reaches to take the bottle from me. “Careful! It’s pretty potent stuff.” _

_ “Please, the only lightweight here is you.” I stick my tongue out at him and take another swig.  _

_ We take a break, chatting to each other and drinking from the bottle. We take turns imagining the reactions of the nobles when they find their wine doesn’t carry the punch they’re used to and Rory makes a very convincing imitation of Consul Valerius that has me rolling on the dusty floor.  _

_ When my laughter dies down, I huff contentedly and I stare at my ceiling.  _

_ “Marion?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “Sit up for a second, I want to try something, and I want to do it while I have the courage to do it.” _

_ Oh? This gets my attention. I look over at him and he’s looking down at his lap, his shaggy blonde hair obscuring his face. He’s a pretty timid guy normally, so when he feels he’s being brave… well, this I have to see. I sit up slowly and grin at him. “What are you thinking? Want to steal your sister's makeup or someth-” I’m cut off by his lips on mine. I freeze at the unfamiliar sensation, my eyes are undoubtedly wide as they try to take in and comprehend the proximity of his features.  _

_ A hum comes from the back of his throat, and he takes just a second or two more before he pulls away, keeping his eyes closed. His ears look like they’re about to catch fire, but his mouth curls into a content smile. He opens his eyes and smirks at me, though I can see the wariness in his eyes as he watches me.  _

_ We’ve been best friends since I moved to Vesuvia. I’ve known him for  _ years _ and I didn’t even suspect that he felt this way towards me. What do I do? What do I say?  _

_ He must see the conflict in my eyes because he gives me a sad smile and puts his finger to my lips to keep me quiet. I can feel my heart twist with sadness.  _

_ “Don’t reject me just yet, let me just-let me just have this moment, okay?” _

_ I nod against his finger and he drops his hand slowly and leans back against a crate and looks up at the ceiling. I give him a nice long minute to bask in… whatever it is he’s feeling as I war with my confusion. Kissing Rory seemed… off--wrong even. Like kissing a brother, or kissing Asra. Besides, no kiss could compare to Julian’s and the fire he lights inside me. _

_ Wait--who’s Julian? My confusion contorts my face as I wrack my brain trying to figure out what’s happening. I’m glad Rory isn’t looking at me, I don’t want to give him the wrong impression while I can’t school my emotions. Flashes of a tall svelte framed man with curly dark red hair flit across my memory, barely kissing along my consciousness and I grasp at him, wanting desperately-for unknown reasons-to keep him with me, not to lose him.  _

_ I don’t want to lose him. Why don’t I want to lose him? Where would he go? Where did he come from? How would I know what his kisses were like…?  _

_ In my confusion I also feel a bit proud and smug and the feeling is almost alien with the thoughts in the forefront of my consciousness. I can feel myself smirk, “Well, that did take some courage, so you get kudos for guts.” I can feel myself say this, but it’s almost like it’s a recording instead of something I’m actively doing.  _

_ Rory opens his eyes and grins at me. I can see something in his eyes die, and it breaks my heart. He recovers quickly and leans forward and wipes at his mouth. “Was like kissing my sister anyway.”  _

_ I want to frown but instead I laugh boisterously and slap his shoulder. “Let’s get back to work, if you’re sober enough.” I stand and head back to my table. I have to actively think about looking back at him to get my body to comply, and when he thinks I’m not looking I can see the disheartened look on his face.  _

_ Rory was my best friend. We were close. Close enough for him to have feelings for me, for us to kiss, and for us to continue being friends. Where is he? Where did he go?  _

_ What happened to Rory?  _

_ My vision blurs and I blink away tears. Suddenly I’m no longer in my room down in the Red Market, and I’m out at the docks sprinting towards the ocean. My lungs are screaming and my legs are burning. My heart is pounding with panic and dread. I can barely feel my feet hit the wood before I’m launching myself faster and farther. _

_ What is happening? What is this? Am I back in the Moon’s realm? Is this a dream? It feels familiar, too familiar to be just a dream… A memory then?  _

_ I scan the people on the ramp that are being loaded onto the boats, searching and searching for that familiar mop of dirty blonde. Where, where, where… _

_ Just as I think I see him, arms grab me around the waist and halt my progress with a jolt. The air leaves my lungs and I struggle from the person’s grasp but they hold firm and bark orders at me that I’m not listening to. I give a frustrated screech and squirm harder. _

_ “Rory!” I yell out, voice cracking from crying. “ _ Rory _!!” _

_ The mop of blonde looks up and I can see the red sclera from here. I stop struggling and my breath leaves my lungs. No… no. No. It happened too fast. This can’t be happening. My vision blurs again and I angrily wipe at my eyes, not wanting my last time seeing him to be obscured by my stupid tears. The arms at my waist start to drag me away and I struggle to keep him in my sights. He gives me a sad smile and raises his hand in farewell, then gives me the middle finger. I laugh-cry for a second before I realize that he’s getting on the boat to the Lazaret. He’s leaving. He’s dying. I’ll never see him again.  _

_ I glance up at the person dragging me from the pier. Plague doctor. I cringe away from the beaked mask as they set me right onto my feet.  _

_ A blonde streak rushes past us and I hear the doctors curse and grab at the crying woman as they had me. She shrieks and struggles in their grasp as I did. Her words come out garbled and unintelligible as she cries uncontrollably. It takes me far more time than I care to admit before I recognize her. _

_ Gloria. _

_ "Rory, no!" She collapses in the arms of a doctor and they drag her back towards me. I glance up at Rory and he's staring at us on the ramp, being herded onto the boat. It's our last chance to see him… _

_ "Gloria, oh, Gloria…" I crumble down next to her as she's deposited next to me and we watch as he disappears in the mass of people on the little boat. _

_ "You bitch, you got my brother sick--" she's cut off by a strangled cry and she puts her face in her hands. "If he would have stayed home like I told him to, he would be safe." She wails into her hands. "But he kept leaving to get into trouble  _ with you _!" She looks up and her blood shot eyes glare daggers into my soul.  _

_ Tears run down my face freely and I swallow hard to be able to speak. "Gloria… I… I'm so sorry…" _

_ She narrows her eyes and stands up in a huff. The boat has set out and I stand as well to watch it disappear in the silhouette of Lazaret Island.  _

_ "Fuck you, Marion." She says quietly. "Sorry won't bring my baby brother back to me. You’ve caused nothing but trouble, and it's always the people around you who pay the price. Nothing short of a fate worse than the plague is what you deserve. I pray that fate finds you." She turns on her heel and leaves me to stand alone as my heart breaks. _

_ No wonder Gloria wanted to stab me. I kind of want to stab me, too. _

_ The air is thick, wet and hot. The sky is red--blood red-- and glowing. Large trees with twisted black branches streak across the sky above me, looking like long gnarled fingers reaching to encompass the sky in a choke hold. It’s dark, almost hard to see but enough light makes it through the fingers of the trees to see by. The ground is almost nothing but water, murky and dark, pungent of sea salt and algae. The roots of the trees are similar to the branches, dark and gnarled, reaching out and stabbing into the water.  _

_ The water around my ankles is warm, but it’s an uncomfortable warm. The water has leaked into my shoes making my feet soggy and pruned. How long have I been standing here? My toes slide against each other quickly as I move them, the feeling is unnerving. Moss, dirt, algae or something else slides along my calves, clinging to my skin, soaking into my leggings, the wet slowly reaching up my legs through the cloth.  _

_ I hear a rhythmic creak echo through the trees, like something solid and heavy swinging from a branch--a rope rubbing against the bark of a tree.  _

_ I dare not look up, instead I watch the water at my feet ripple slightly as something under the surface moves. Maybe fish, maybe insects, I don’t know.  _

_ The ripples stop, and I see the reflection of movement--of something swinging--in the water. My heart constricts and I close my eyes tight. The creak grows louder, almost as if it’s refusing to be ignored.  _

_ I take a slow deep breath, it hitches several times as I do. Pain explodes in my chest--heartache.  _

_ I can’t hide from this. I can’t change what has already been done.  _

_ A light appears before me, I can see it through my eyelids. I can see the shadow of the swinging object pass by it over and over and over… Creak, creak, creak… _

_ Tears spill past my closed eyelids and dash down my cheeks.  _

_ This dream will not be ignored. _

_ I open my eyes and focus on the source of light--not the shadow… not yet. It’s a black lantern hanging from a lower gnarled branch, it glows with a dreary orange light.  _

_ The shadow passes in front of it--I refuse to focus on the object--but I do notice that it spins slightly as it passes by. It’s next pass is slower, as if it’s losing its momentum.  _

_ It’s time.  _

_ I look at the object and my mind refuses to see, refuses to acknowledge. I stare at it, uncomprehending. But my heart knows. My heart knows, and it’s screaming.  _

_ I watch until the swinging stops, until the creaking stops. I watch because I can’t look away. I watch because I can’t hide from this, I can’t run from this. I watch because my heart is breaking.  _

_ I watch because I miss him, and as morbid as it seems, I’d rather watch him hang in my dreams than to be awake and alone without him. _

~Interlude~

She thought she was going through the right portal, but by the looks of it, she was wrong. Her intention was to visit the Hierophant first and simply go down the line, but it seems the Universe has a different plan for her. Miranda isn’t put off by the change of plans, merely confused as to the detour. She looks up at the dull red sky, and tries her footing in the ankle deep marsh water. 

She’s only mildly surprised at the vines as they grab a hold of her, and she watches them curl around her with an amused expression. The vines that touch her skin bud and bloom with small pinkish white flowers. When the trees reach down and seize the vines and lift her up, she is unfazed. Apparently, she’s needed somewhere. With a smooth motion the trees swing her through the swamp, easily handing her off to the next available branch. It takes but a moment to see her destination and for her to be lightly settled onto a small island of solid ground within a halo of orange light from a hanging lantern. 

She’s not at all intimidated by the large dark figure with imposing black wings standing in front of the lantern with his back to her. When his large raven head turns to greet her with one amused eye, he seems hardly surprised to see her. He nods his head in acknowledgement of her arrival and turns back to regarding something that lies in front of him. Slowly the vines retreat from her, and she takes a step toward the Arcana. 

“Good of you to join us, little magician.” His deep voice rumbles, and she can see the muscles churn under the red shibari rope along his torso and his wings. “Care for a game of Senet? I believe this may take a while.” 

She opens her mouth to question as to what would be taking a while, but she’s rendered speechless as he waves his taloned hand and an intricate table appears decorated in an array of lavish golds, blues and reds. Two gold winged stools appear next to it. She smiles and makes her way to the table. The Arcana turns and she gets a glimpse of what had his attention prior to her arrival and she nearly trips over her own feet. 

“J-Julian?!” She squeaks, but the Hanged Man shakes his head at her and raises a talon to silence her. 

“Give him some time, what he’s experiencing isn’t an easy thing.” His voice is low and at ease, and it calms her suddenly racing heart. 

Julian is crouched down, head in his hands, fingers ripping at his brilliant red curls. He almost looks like a frog with how his legs almost reach above his head due to their length, it would have almost been comical if it weren’t for the look of terror and confusion on his face. She frowns and gives a questioning look to the Hanged Man. He gives her a smile, or at least the best approximation of a smile that can be rendered with a beak for a mouth. 

“He will be fine, he’s stronger than he looks.” He ushers to the Senet table and they both take a seat. 

She eyes Julian over the game table, unable to contain her worry. “How…?” She trails off, unable to form the question her mind is screaming at her to ask.

“He wanted to see me.” The Hanged Man shrugs and reaches forward to move the first pawn to start the game. “How could I refuse such a request when he was willing to die for it?”

Her aquamarine eyes widen and her stomach twists with guilt. “Then… is he…?”

The bark of laughter from the Arcana makes her jump on her stool. “Hardly. Or at least not yet. That’s for him to decide. Your move.”

Absently, she grabs a random pawn and moves it. She’s not that familiar with the game of Senet. Leave it to the most remote of the Arcana to enjoy a game that no one plays anymore. 

She can feel the hard stare of the Hanged Man on her and it makes her uncomfortable. 

“He’s a willful and strong man when he wants to be, magician. He was set on being hung today. No amount of your will, as strong as you are, was going to change the fate he designed for himself.” 

Her eyes dart up to his in surprise. “Then, it was Julian who repelled my magic?”

He nods with an amused smirk. “The boy is strong in magic to be able to use it with no guidance or understanding. If only he was willing to learn--but alas, everyone chooses their own path.” 

Miranda isn’t sure why she’s so surprised by this. She knew Julian held a well of magic within him, she could feel the raw potential just under the surface. She watches as the Hanged Man’s talon moves another pawn on the board. “He’s your beneficiary then, I take it?”

He nods again, eyes alight with interest. “You’ve figured it all out, have you?”

"Marion figured it out, actually." 

At the sound of her sister's name leaving her tongue Julian lurches quickly to stand upright, nearly over compensating and he wabbles unsteadily for a moment before mumbling a lamenting "Fucking hell…" before beginning to pace erratically stumbling some over his own feet.

The Hanged Man eyes the doctor for a moment then turns back to Miranda. "Ah yes, the little fool. That boy is pretty smitten with her, though he may try to deny it now." Behind him, Julian slips while making a sharp turn to continue pacing, he catches himself and resumes his frantic march.

"I don't remember him being so clumsy." Her eyes watch him carefully. He seems to be in his own world of distress and despair. 

The Hanged Man throws his head back and chortles loudly. "You should have seen him in his youth. Spindly and unsteady like a newborn colt." 

"If I might ask… what has him so distraught?" Her eyes follow him back and forth, back and forth.

The sudden change from mirth to business in the eyes of the Hanged Man is off putting, but she keeps his eyes, waiting for an answer. Behind the Hanged Man she can see in her peripheral Julian's mucky white shirt still pacing, his quiet mumbling the only sound in the swamp.

The Hanged Man closes his eyes for just a moment, almost as if in pain, but when he opens them, they are bright again, this time with an air of wisdom and hard won patience. "The events of four years ago… were hard on him. For a year he struggled with his feelings of guilt and shame… and inadequacy. He blamed himself for what happened to the two of you. Blamed himself for the suffering of the people--"

"Oh Julian, you hopeless idiot." She didn't mean to interrupt, the words just came as her emotions spilled over. The Hanged Man doesn't seem upset, he even smiles just a bit as he turns to eye the redhead as he paces. 

"He wanted nothing more than to end all of the suffering. He was dying by this point, having contracted the plague himself."

She gasps and her hand reaches up to cover her mouth to stop any further interruptions.

"So, three years ago I contacted him through a fever dream. And we struck a deal."

Miranda's brows pinch together and she frowns. "A deal? What was the catch?" Her voice is stern and it makes the Hanged Man laugh.

"Ah! Such vitriol, little magician! Many deals were struck that night, some you have benefitted from, so don't judge too harshly." 

She schools her expression and asks a different question quietly instead. "What did he give up?"

"His memories. Specifically the ones involving the two of you. The horrors of the plague. I was even going to toss in his murdering of the Count, but it seems that turned out to be unnecessary."

"Julian would never--" she starts but she's cut off by a new voice joining the conversation.

"...Julian would. That is, I… I was going to. But, I didn't make it in time." 

The Hanged Man smiles and stands from the Senet table. "Ah, welcome back. I trust that introductions are not necessary, yes?" He motions to Miranda, who is now also raising up to stand.

Julian's brows come together in confusion but his eyes show recognition. It's only now that Miranda notices the bright red sclera of his right eye. She does her best to not show her surprise. 

"Miranda, how…?" 

"She's a magician!" The Hanged Man laughs, startling Julian and making him blush. Miranda fights back a smirk, having forgotten how easy it is to make Julian blush. It's now that she sees the pulsing light at his throat, the sigil of the deal.

"Ah, right." Julian mumbles. He notices her eyes on the sigil and reaches up to touch his throat self consciously. "It's… it's what I asked for. I wanted the ability to heal any wound, calm any fever, cure any ailment. I just couldn't remember  _ why _ I wanted it." His eyes quickly glance to the Hanged Man then back to her. 

"Instead," the Hanged Man's voice becomes stern, "you thought it was a curse, and travelled from town to town testing the limits of what it could bring you back from."

Julian's face and ears glow in the lantern light from his blush. 

"But this…" Miranda's voice is quiet, and somehow she's walked up to him, reaching up but not daring to touch the glowing sigil. She watches him warily, upset with him for not taking care of himself like she had told him so many times to do. He seems to sense her dismay and he averts his eyes. "This will bring you back?"

His eyes dash up to the Hanged Man. "Will it?"

The Arcana crosses his large arms, muscles rippling under the feathers. "Your mark has just enough energy to return you to the living realm. Then it will disappear for good. Or… you can stay here, in my realm. Miranda will ensure the cure gets to where it needs to go." He winks at her. "There is much you could learn from me."

"I… I didn't realize I'd have options." He bites at his lower lip in thought.

Miranda stares at him incredulously. "Is this even a choice you need to think about?" Her voice is high and loud and he looks at her startled. She wants to regain her composure but she's too flabbergasted to fight her emotions logically. "Why would you possibly want to stay here if you have the ability to return!"

A taloned hand rests on her shoulder and squeezes in warning. Jerking her head she looks up at the Arcana and he shakes his head. "Don't project your own feelings onto him. This is his choice. Everyone has their own path."

She takes a deep breath and turns back to Julian who looks absolutely morose and stricken. She can feel her expression soften.

"You don't understand Miranda… with this mark I-I was useful. When I wasn't trying to destroy myself, I was able to help people. It really is the best medical treatment I know. I could cure anything, heal anyone. Without it… I'm just…" He looks away.

"You're not useless, Julian--" she stammers, her voice stuck in her throat.

"She's right." The Hanged Man chimes in. "You are a doctor after all."

"What good is a plague doctor without a plague?" He mumbles not daring to meet their eyes. He turns away from them and resumes his pacing.

Miranda reaches out to him, but the Hanged Man shakes his head at her again. He's right, this is Julian's decision. She closes her hands into fists and swallows back her objections. 

Julian paces for a long time before he begins to mumble to himself again. "All this time I thought I was coming back to Vesuvia to pay for my crimes. I never expected to be innocent."

"You had no plan for after?" It comes out as more of a statement than a question. Julian stops for just a moment to look at the raven headed being. 

"After? I never considered an 'after' would be on the table." He resumes his pacing.

"Here," the Hanged Man continues, "everything remains the same. It's a stagnant but easy existence. Out there, everything is changing. The future is shrouded in uncertainty." 

"If I go back, what good will it do? I've done so much damage already. Any good I could do, can easily be done by others." He looks for just a second at Miranda. "I'm trouble. I drag everyone down. I run away when things get hard. It's the story of my life." He turns away and stops his pacing to look out over the swamp. His hands reach up and clench in his hair. "I  _ hurt _ people. Mazelinka, Pasha, Asra…  _ Marion _ . Oh God,  _ Marion. _ " He falls back into his squatting position and she can see him rock himself slightly. "I'm a monster. I don't deserve a second chance. I don't deserve her."

Tears cloud her vision and her voice cracks when she speaks, "Everyone deserves a second chance. No one is irredeemable."

He looks up, alarmed, like he's seen a ghost. "'No one is irredeemable. No matter what they've done.'" He says. "Marion said that to me… it seems like ages ago now."

Miranda smiles. "It's a very Marion-like thing to say."

"She also said that forgiveness was up to the person whom the crime was committed against."

She nods sagely. "Another very Marion-like thing to say. It seems like sound advice to me."

He looks over at the Hanged Man, who only watches patiently, awaiting an answer. "I know what I want to do."

"Are you sure? You can take as long as you want." The Hanged Man offers. 

He pauses for just a moment, then smiles a small unsteady smile. "No, it's time to face the music."

The Hanged Man turns to Miranda and gives her a large smile. "Thank you for the game, little magician. It was good to have someone to play against."

Miranda snorts, "If you weren't so ridiculously hard to reach, you'd have more opponents."

"Ah, but I'm hard to reach for a reason." He winks at her and grabs Julian by the shoulder to lead him away. "Don't you have other Arcane entities to visit?" He says over his shoulder. 

Ah, that's right. She does.

~Interlude End~

I lean my head on the door and fight to build up the courage to open it. I don’t want to leave this room, I don’t want to leave him. When I step out into the hallway, how long will it take for the warmth in his hand to cool? How long before the sensation of his skin on mine wanes? How long will it be before I can’t remember what color his eyes are? Or the tone of his voice? How long before I can’t distinguish the exact shade of the auburn of his curls? 

There are so many things, so many people in my life that I can’t remember, that are only shadows that dance around my consciousness… important people to me, people I loved. It hurts to know that I can’t bring them to the forefront of my mind, to remember them with clarity. 

It seems absolutely abhorrent that Julian may end up among those people. A shadow within my messed up memory, a silhouette with blurry features. To lose his smile, his expressive eyebrows, his angled jaw, his hooked nose… 

My stomach twists with anxiety. I can’t leave, but I can’t stay. 

He’s not here. His body is, but  _ he _ is not. 

I can feel a part of me die as I grab the door handle. 

I hear a gumble from behind me, and the loud shake of feathers. Suddenly there’s a weight on my shoulder, with the sting of claws digging in through the thin blouse. I look up and meet Malak’s black eye. He clacks his beak at me before grabbing some of my hair to preen. The act of familiarity and care warms my heart and I can feel tears build up in my eyes and I fight them off. 

Absently I rub the golden cufflink between my first finger and thumb, warming the metal. I found it in my lap as I stood up, and I can only conclude it to be a gift from the corvid. They’re known for finding shiny things and hoarding or gifting them, right? Or did I read wrong? 

He raises his wings around my head and leans to the door and gives it a solid peck with his beak. His desire seems pretty clear: it’s time to leave. I take a large shaking breath and turn the handle. He purrs in my ear and it seems like encouragement, and it gives me the strength to pull the door open. The hallway is brighter than the room, so it takes my eyes a second to adjust. I take a step forward and the door seems to close on its own behind me. 

I feel like I’ve left a very important piece of me in that room. A piece I may never see again.

Malak squawks and jumps from my shoulder. I turn to see very big, very wide, very green eyes before I'm smashed into fur and leather. Large arms wrap me into a bear hug. I'm too startled to move, and so I stand awkwardly in the giant's embrace. His shoulders begin to shake, and he loosens his grip slightly, I take in a steady breath and wrap my arms around him as far as I can reach.

"Oh Muri, it's okay. I'm okay." I pat his arm and use my other hand to smooth his hair. I wonder how long he's been sitting outside the door waiting on me?

"It's not okay, but I'm glad you're safe." He mumbles into my shoulder. "I'm sorry Marion. It was my responsibility to keep the protection spell on you…"

"Muriel!" I chastise him, pulling away to look him in the eye. "You were on Death's door, I think you get a pass." I pat his cheek and he blushes.

"What about the protection spell now? Do you need it? I have all the necessary ingredients on me…" He trails off as he releases me and digs through his array of pouches on his belt. 

I stay his hands and smile. "Not necessary anymore, big guy. Mira broke the deal and the compulsion with it."

He hums his understanding and stands up to his full height. "Saffron's been worried sick about you. If you have a moment, they'd like to see you. I'll never hear the end of it if I didn't wake them up as soon as you came out." 

I snort. "They couldn't be bothered to wait here for me too then?" I say it mostly as a joke, but Muriel gets flustered.

"No! That's not--I mean they wanted to--but I made them go rest. I almost had to force them down--" his face immediately flares in a blush and I cock an eyebrow at him. He clamps his mouth shut and stares at the floor going stock still.

If it were any other time, I would drill him for details and poke fun at him until he could take no more and stomp off. But I just don't have it in me today. Instead, I just pat his arm again and say, "I told you Saffron was good people. Can you lead me to their room?"

He nods eagerly, pausing for just a moment, probably noticing the difference in my demeanor, and leads me to Saffron's room. 

It takes all but two seconds before Saffron is fully awake and smothering me in my second bear hug of the night--morning? What the hell time is it anyway?

"Oh honey, don't you ever fucking do that shit to me again. I think I've aged ten years. I can feel the wrinkles." 

I laugh, but it's hollow and they pull away from me and regard me with warm brown eyes. 

"How are you holding up, kid? I know you've been to Hell and back. I'm here to listen if you want to talk." 

I can feel my bottom lip tremble as I fight back my urge to cry. They sigh and pull me back to their chest and my dam breaks. They coo and rub my back as I weep. And they listen as I recall my horror from the compulsion, to the dungeons, to the realms of the Arcana to waking up to find Julian executed. When I've regained enough composure to pull away, the look on their face really does reflect aging ten years. 

"I'm sorry, Saffron. That's a lot to dump on a person." I laugh again, and again it's hollow. Saffron gives me a haunted look. 

"You've regained your memories though," Muriel chimes in after a long silence. "That at least, is good news."

I give him a thankful smile. "Yeah," I sniff and rub my right eye. "It's not all back, but I'm piecing it together." 

"It's a start." Saffron nods, having recovered from their shock. "Asra is back. Maybe he can help fill in some more blanks." 

"Yeah, I need to fill him in on my theory about the Arcana too." I rub my face, which is raw and puffy from crying. Ugh, I hate crying.

"If what you say is true," Muriel grumbles, "we might be in over our heads."

"Oh, it's already over mine, honey." Saffron laments. Muriel and I both give them an apologetic look. "But, we can talk more about this in the morning. You," they reach out and tuck some of my hair behind my ear, "need to get more rest. You look dead on your feet. In a few hours I'll come get you for breakfast."

I frown. It feels like all I've been doing since returning from the Arcane realms is sleep. I still have no idea what time it is, or how long I've been gone, or how many hours I've slept. The weariness in my bones begs for more rest and all I want to do is ignore it and run off to find Asra. 

"Huh-uh, don't give me that look, kid." There's a hard glint in Saffron's eyes and I can feel myself shrink against their ire. "Go. To. Bed. Sleep. Like, in a bed, not on the floor. Everything can wait until morning." They shoo me towards the door, then turn that same ire towards Muriel. "You too Mountain Man." They point to the bed. "Sleep."

My mouth opens up to an "o" in surprise and I raise my brows at Muriel. He dodges the eye contact, his face flaming in a blush and I grin at him as I'm ushered into the hall. 

My, my, my. 

Saffron escorts me to my room, mainly to be sure I don't run off, but I'm thankful for the guidance back. I wasn't quite in the right state of mind earlier to remember which room I was given. 

I open the cracked door the rest of the way and I'm met with a purr from the black mass of feathers sitting on my bed. Ah, so that's where he got off to. Next to him is a change of clothes, and by a cursory glance I see a pair of leggings and I mouth a silent "Thank you" to whomever supplied them. Most likely Asra, but I'll have to ask him to be sure. 

I turn back to Saffron, who's leaning against the door frame watching me. "Will you be alright by yourself?" They ask.

I turn back to look at Malak as he clacks his beak. "I'll be okay, Malak can keep me company." I reach and scritch him on his neck.

Saffron frowns at the raven and points a finger at him. "Don't get her in any trouble, bird." Malak let's out a cackle that makes Saffron's brows pinch together. I stifle a laugh that turns into a yawn. 

"Goodnight, honey. See you in a few hours." They slowly close the door, but I don't hear them walk away. 

Really? Are you seriously going to stand guard at my door to keep me here? I stick my tongue out at the door. Lame.

Malak cackles again and prances on the bed next to my clothes. I grab the leggings and sure enough, they're a pair of mine. Asra must have snuck out to the shop and grabbed them. I hurry and change. 

I piddle about the room for a moment when I finally hear some foot falls retreat down the hall. Good. My shoulders relax a bit from tension I wasn't aware I had. I sit on the bed and let Malak nibble on my fingers.

"What now, little guy?" I muse to him. He watches me with a beady eye. "I appreciate your company, but don't feel obligated to stay with me." He makes a strange growling noise in his throat that I've never heard him make before. I have no idea what it means. 

I'm startled by a sudden knock on the door. We both turn and stare, frozen in place. A moment later, there's another knock, this one louder. 

"Um, come in…?" I move to stand as the door opens. 

"Marion? Oh good, you're awake." Tired cloudy blue eyes look me over and I can't help the tired smile that lights my face.

"Trabor? Long time no see." 

He seems startled for just a moment before a brilliant smile splits his face revealing a few gaps in his teeth. "I take it you've regained some memories then, trouble maker?"

I nod, "Some."

He sighs in relief. "That makes this quite a bit easier then. Actually, it might make a huge difference." He enters my room and closes the door behind him. "Sorry to disturb you so early, but I need your help." His smile fades and he looks stricken.

"What's wrong?" 

"Do you think you can remember if you have any old supplies tucked away down here? Or remember how to make sanitation liquids?" He gives me a hopeful look, but it's tainted with despair.

"Maybe. Why?" I can feel my stomach drop.

He closes his eyes and takes a long slow breath in, then out. When he opens them again, they're sad, fathemlesslsy sad, like all the hope in the world has been lost. 

"I think the plague has returned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to do better about getting chapters out, but I make no guarantees. Shiz is starting to get into the nitty gritty in the story and I need to get my act together so I can finish it x.x 
> 
> Thanks so much for hanging in there with me~ <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to AO3. I finally put up a summary. (It sucks tho T.T) Feedback is welcome, I'm kind of rusty.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr for story updates and news, but mostly reblogs >:D
> 
> https://kayinkm17.tumblr.com/


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